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JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF АЕНСАМ YOUTH LITERATURE

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. |FESTIVAL

JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Editorial and Production

Managing Editor
Bronwyn Bowles-King

Youth Liaison
Kelly Maroon

Africa Talent Recruitment
Ibrahim Babatunde Ibrahim

Marketing and Graphic Design
Jo-Anne King and Bronwyn Bowles-King

Strategy and Governance
Jo-Anne King

Cover image
Thenjiwe Nxumalo-Parsley

EDITORIAL FOREWORD

| would like to thank Andi Colombo for helping forge the JAY Lit collaboration with Res4Res Student Festival
2021 held by the University of Cape Town. We're thrilled to present the winning pieces and some runners up
from the festival in this issue. These include Buyile Kokose's poem 'UFUKMA' in isiXhosa and Nomajuba
Hlatshwayo's ‘In The Mirror’. We also feature the winning visual arts piece: 'solation the feminine body’ by
Mandisa Shandu and finalist Neema Masinde's prose poetry about a wornan's suffering after abduction.

Our cover star is 18-year-old DJ Thenjiwe Nxumalo-Parsley from Cape Town. Find out тоге about her and
read her short story 'Bone Child' from page 79. We have five more short stories, including the LGB-themed ‘A
Search for the Closet's Key’ by Anne Tinargwo and Senzelokuhle Nkabini's ‘Alex and the Blesser’. 'Our Ride or
Die' from issue 2 has been revised and republished by Sandile Ngubane for this issue.

It is always a tough call to make but my choice for the best short story for issue five is by Sithethile Sgwentu.
'Lulu on the Shore' is an incredibly insightful piece about the complexity of bullying and friendship. It also
adeptly tackles critical race and economic issues in South Africa. Sgwentu is a young author to watch.

| am very proud and excited to include a play that | helped develop, Vashti by Enoima Edem Okon. This
feminist revisionist tragedy about some of the events in the book of Esther disrupts religious fundamentalism
and patriarchal dogma. With this masterpiece, | assert that JAY Lit ceases to be ephemeral literature, if
indeed it ever was.

For this our fifth issue, | would like to welcome poet Mphae Charmaine Mashifane with an exceptional poem,
‘Lam leaving where | come from’, Cara Helene with ‘Meisie’s Minutiae’, and ‘Tears of a Fountain’ by Aisha
Ibrahim. These are three touching poems for youth readers today by women authors, each one brilliant in her
own right. Cara Helene also created the stunning art piece for Vashti.

Linda Wa Ka Shabangu's poetry offers the isiZulu 'Izinyembezi' ['Tears] with a translation plus five English
pieces. We are very proud to present our first Afrikaans poetry by Benito Trollip. Royston Pieterse's essay 'A
Melee with Morality' discusses the concepts of good and evil in the fantasy genre in Nigerian author Nnedi
Okorafor's What Sunny Saw in the Flames in relation to the Islamic fantasy epic The Throne of the Crescent
Moon by Ahmed Saladin.

With this issue, we bring the total number of authors and creatives featured in the journal to over 110 from
across 15 countries in Africa. We have also featured 17 different languages and dialects thus far. We will
continue to work hard to expand on this excellent progress with more languages and countries on the
African continent in future issues.

Bronwyn Bowles-King

JAY Lit Managing Editor
africanyouthliterature@gmail.com

JOIN OUR AMBASSADOR PROGRAMME

Would you be interested in helping us promote JAY Lit to other authors from your home
country? If you want to see your country and home language represented in the Journal,
being an Ambassador is a great way to make it happen! We want to address the following
through this initiative:

e We receive few submissions from nations outside South Africa and Sub-Saharan Africa.
We are determined to change that and are seeking ways to reach other African writers.
You can start simply by telling your friends on social media about the Journal.

e We want more submissions that aren't in English, though we welcome those too. Perhaps
you can help us reach those who are writing or could write in languages such as Swahili,
Chichewa, Zulu, etc. All African languages are welcome, as well as those spoken widely in
certain regions such as French and Portuguese.

e We are also interested in the way youths mix and use various languages together in
practice (multilingualism) and capturing that for cultural preservation.

e Another major challenge we face is reaching rural areas. Can you reach out to those in
outlying areas in your country or region? Sharing info about JAY Lit with high schools,
teachers, libraries, community forums, etc. in rural areas can ensure we are more inclusive
and give opportunities to those in disadvantaged areas.

CONTENTS

Poetry

Buyile Kokose
UFUKA

Mphae Charmaine Mashifane
| am leaving where | come from

Linda Wa Ка Shabangu
Izinyembezi

Tears

A Spark

Blacks Don't Cry

A Picture of a Woman

A Stone

We Kissed

Nomajuba Hlatshwayo
In The Mirror

Evil Prevails

| Dare You

Benito Trollip
by 'n blou stoel, blou
Amper Lepoop

Aisha Ibrahim
Tears of a Fountain

Cara Helene
Meisie's Minutiae

The Dance

Neema Masinde
| Didn't Leave

2 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

[ope 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Short Stories

Anne Tinargwo 33
A Search for the Closet's Key

Sithethile Sgwentu 46
Lulu on the Shore

75
Senzelokuhle Nkabini

Alex and the Blesser

Thenjiwe Nxumalo-Parsley 79
Bone Child

Sandile Ngubane 82

Our Ride or Die

Visual Art

Mandisa Shandu 9]
Isolation. the feminine body

Plays

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper 94
Vashti

Essays

Royston Pieterse 126
A Melee with Morality: A discussion of how the main

characters in The Throne of the Crescent Moon and

What Sunny Saw in the Flames navigate the tension

between good and evil

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 3

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Buyile Kokose is a writer and musician living in Cape Town, South Africa. He was
born in Butterworth in the Eastern Cape and has been writing since he was in high
school. He has penned the drama Seeds of the Same Tree and composes poetry for
pleasure. Buyile currently studies music performance at the University of Cape Town
(UCT) and works as a scriptwriter and assistant director for local series.

Buyile won the award for Fan Favourite Writing at the UCT 2021 Res4Res Student
Festival. Buyile's winning poem 'UKUFA' [DEATH] is presented here. The isiXhosa
poem is highly unique, intimate, and based on the poet's observations of the
anguish that young children experience after losing their parents at an early age.

Buyile Kokose

UKUFA

Yanga ndinga thabatha usiba ndibhale kumacwecwe еепддопао

Umnqweno kungena kwezenu iintliziyo ngeenzame zokufaka uxolo nokomelela
Ukuzama ukupholisa amanxeb'anzulu abangel'iintliziyo zidandatheke ziintlungu
Umphefumlo ubephantsi ngoku lahlekelwa ngamathemba, nenkolo ibeluzizi ukuthamba

Mohluthi ndini wabazali, menzi weenkedama oshiya kusisanxwe nezijwili zihlokoma

Sithi sisancanca kuloo mibele ibhongxileyo suke usishiye nemifanekiso ilenga-lenga
Kufa! uyingxuba kaxaka esele ixake namaxhego, kuba ulutshaba ulochitha imizi yakuthi
Chopha nathi phantsi ntondini! Sikhanyisele ukuba yintoni lena usizondela yona kangaka

Oh, ndibu hlungu ngaphakathi kuba ixhala endinalo ngaba bangeka qini ngeminyaka
Kuba kaloku lofika lona ixesha, bandibuze ukuba uph'umama! Uph'utata bhuti!
Ndaku phendula ndithini xa sele abantwana bezama ukugonda ngabazali babo!
Ndaku thetha lwimi luni kubo ukuzama ukuyibhentsisa batsho nabo bacacelwe!

Ndizibona njenge nkomo eyodwa kwisibaya sika tata kuba usiggibile ekhaya
Intonga yomsimelelo yophukile, yazuba, ndiyo jingxela ndixhaswe ngubanina!
Kaloku nam andika qini ngokweminyaka bendisa jonge ukomelezwa ngabadala
Kaloku nam bendiselilo ithol'ebelisa jonge uncanca kwithokazi, umama ngokutsho

Bendingazi lakufika lona elixesha ndizibone ndize ndingasena banina wokukhalela
Kubuhlungu kum ngaphakathi kodwa, zizinyanzelo ndomelele ndigine ndixele intsika
Lifikile lona ixesha ndingene kumaxhanti oomkhulu ndibabize ooPhalo, ooRharhabe
Kuba yona lena into! ifanele bona ngoba ngabo isigalo kwaye, nesiphelo ikwangabo

Матуа дода ngedolo lomphefumlo Кип! mzontsundu ndisiva umthwalo unzima
Ndisondela kuni ngawo lomzuzu njengo nyana wena, ndicela nindibonise indlela

Andinisoli nganto zinyanya zakuthi kuba ndinethemba ninolwazi nezizatha ngovuma
Ngalamazwi ndicela amandla okomelela zendikwazi ukumelana nalemeko. Ndabulela

6 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

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Mphae Charmaine Mashifane is a coffee-loving South African writer who expresses
her being in poetry. Her passion in literature lies in inspiring change. Her works have
been published by Botsotso, Kalahari Review, Brittle Paper, Poetry Potion, Visual
Verse, Versification, Aberration Labyrinth, and more.

Mphae Charmaine Mashifane

lam leaving where | come from

Where I come from the symbol of love is a man hanging on a cross
Stripped naked and battered to the bone

They narrate the story as if he picked the weapons himself

As if he filled the soldier's arms with strength

As if he never tried to opt out the night before

They say; “that is love, one for all"

Where I come from self love is synonymous with selfish
"How dare you eat when we are hungry?"

Where | come from we are trained to please others

To entertain strangers and leave them at ease

The hefty prize we pay for this is never weighed

Where | come from selflessness is to be empty of the self

Like the sun robs itself of light to give us some

Like the stars endure nyctophobia for our sake

Like our intestines are claustrophobic but stick around anyway

Where I come from love hurts
Love leaves you empty
| am leaving where | come from

It will take more than a quote

To undo this generational tie
To live without trying to die

8 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

Linda Wa Ka Shabangu is a Johannesburg-based theatre practitioner and he also
writes poetry. An alumnus of the Market Theatre Laboratory, he is a thespian,
playwright, and stage director.

Linda told JAY Lit recently, "I have a sweet and bitter, ugly and beautiful relationship
with a desire to write constantly. It's the hardest thing to do, yet, at the same time, it
becomes the most therapeutic thing to do for healing yourself and others. It's like
being fully naked in a crowd of people ready to be judged and sometimes it's like
talking to someone who understands you even when you not saying a word. Writing
gives a voice to speak to, to speak from, to cry from, to cry with, to smile for, and to
nurture the wounded pieces of yourself in this world while indirectly healing others
with your pen."

We present a collection of Linda Wa Ka Shabangu's poetry, beginning with a poem
in IsiZulu entitled /zinyembezi [Tears] with an English translation.

Linda Wa Ka Shabangu

Izinyembezi
ISiyaphila ngokomzimba kodwa ngomoya asiphili

Sesavele safana nazo izidumbu, umehluko yiko ukuthi thina siyakwazi ukukhuluma,
siyabona, siyacabanga, yebo siyabhala, kodwa iginiso ukuthi umhlabathi uyasisinda

Ingani noma sikhala asizwakali nokho kwathiwa ingane engakhali ifela embelekweni.

Izinyembezi zethu sezaphenduka Injabulo kwabanye,
Nodokotela ngenkathi umama engikhipha kwesakhe
isibeletho abashongongani ukuthi ngizalelwa ukukhala?

Yebo ngiyavuma ayikho ingane engakhali mayizalwa nanoma
ke izinyembezi zam zingasho lutho kwabanye,
ingabe zinyembezi zami uyongilamulela nini?

Yebo ngiyavuma emhlabeni uzalwa wedwa, uhamba wedwa kodwa bayaphi
Ubuntu nozwelo?

Iginiso ukuthi siyaphila kepha asiphili, sikhala esikanandi kodwa sobuye sithule, sikhulume.
Sikhala sicabanga, sikhala sibhekile...
Kanti wena zinyembezi u phela nini na?

Ngabe Impilo yizinyembezi nentukuthelo na?

Injabulo yona sobuye siyithole ngakuphi??
Zinyembezi zami ingabe uyongilamulela nini na??

10 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

[epe 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Tears

English translation of Izinyembezi.
We live physically but spiritually we do not

We are already like the corpses, the difference is that we can speak,
we see, we think, yes we write, but the fact is that the soil weighs us down

Why the cry was not heard, but it was said that a baby who did not cry died in the womb.

Our tears have turned to joy for others,
And the doctor, while my mother took me out of her
Why did they not cry out that | was born to cry?

Yes | agree no crying baby should be born either
but my tears will not mean anything to others,
when will you save my tears?

Yes, | agree in the world you are born alone, you travel alone but where do they go
Personality and compassion?

The fact that we are alive but not alive, we cry sweetly, but then we are silent again, talking.
We are thinking, we are watching...
And when will you end up in tears?

Is Life Tears and Anger?

Where else can we find happiness?
My tears, when will you help me??

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 11

Linda Wa Ka Shabangu

A Spark

In the mist of darkness
| found a spark smiling at me

And it was then, | spoke about galaxies and stars that came at night,
to steal our hearts, our time in the universe.

Once our eyes kissed
There was no turning back, our kiss gave birth to eternity,
opening a world of everlasting joy, no one would dare dream of escaping

Tranquillity reigned and all that life constantly throws in storms ceased,
bowed to a covenant of our lips.

As though we were a kiss incarnate

As though it was meant only for us, it was perfect, we were perfect
We had our flaws

We had our fears

We had our insecurities

We had our misconceptions but our hearts were in love,

and fell deeper in love every time

we looked at each other

12 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

[epe 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Blacks Don't Cry

God!God!God!

Are you even there?

Every day my life is devoted to you | have conquered all the temptations,
lost people | loved at your silence and absence

yet you remain immune to my dreams.

| do good in this dirty world | see

yet speak nothing about it cause you are there to heal us from all

| see our homes fall apart

| see our leaders’ greed at our expense

| see our skin colour being the tragedy of life

| see how we are not equal

| see how white dogs still eat and live better than us

| see how the poor remain poor from the system that buried our forefathers
| see how the rich keep getting rich

But I pray all will be equal one day,

sometimes | wonder if there's any truth in your words, come back and

see how people slave their lives to you, their jobs, to the poverty that has become a norm to
live.

What is this life we living?

| have cried all the tears in my soul, broke the spirit where faith was sane.

All my life, | have been loyal to you

but never have you freed me from this hell of a life

| give all my hard-earned money to your messagers,

money that | could have saved to buy my mother a better house, better shoes for myself
instead | give it to my pastor who lives a better life, in a big mansion, drives fancy cars

| am tired | am tired | have nothing. All is given to you

| pray for a better life, not a better job
All jobs are the same, long hours, less money and more debts, | just need a better life God

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 13

Linda Wa Ka Shabangu

A Picture of a Woman

Yesterday | looked at a mirror.

| wanted to see a wornan.

A black wornan.

| closed my eyes for a bit, took a breath and opened my eyes.

There she was

Hanging on top of a tree naked with blood dripping like a broken tap of water
the ground swallowing her life away

with wind blowing

the bush comforted the body of the deceased

Yesterday | looked at a mirror.

| wanted to see a wornan.

A black woman.

| closed my eyes for a bit longer, took a breath and opened my eyes again.

‘Look at her!

What a slut

Make-up on point, crop-top on point, weave on point, mini-skirt on point
She walks with lust in-between her thighs on this street

breaking man's necks, erecting desires and temptations in men's eyes'
They said she deserved it

Yesterday | looked at a mirror.

| wanted to see a wornan.

A black woman.

| closed my eyes for a bit longer and
took a breath and at last,

| opened my eyes.

At night

| heard a scream

But it seemed far.

Drunkards going back home to sober up, our intoxicated youth.

The scream continued, the scream continued, this drunkard disturbing sleep

a pillow over my head, sleep is wondering in my mind and the screams slowly fading to
silence.

It's morning,

гпу weary eyes see a newspaper
'Missing girls' on the front page
| did hear screarms last night.

14 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

[epe 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

A Stone

They are coming

| hear them

It's the people.

The cries, the undying wounds, the bloodshed

All of them are coming for your conscience comrade

Your bed knows no peace like empty promises
of a colourful rainbow and a new dawn
sold on a silver platter

Body tossing and turning in the dark
falling over the throne

crawling on the floor for mercy
screaming in agony “Amandla”
because freedom is not yet Uhuru.

Truth, seeking justice, for your own brothers and sisters
whose slogans have shattered the dream of tomorrow

Peace knows no horme in your sleep, horne is a lie
| hear them, broken-hearted, heavy-spirited with burden
They are coming for you.

| am what you don't take to mind
| am an ear beyond the masses
an ear that hears no lies go unturned

| have fought alongside them, down the ground
they would pick me up and throw me into
war with anger on their faces and fists up

| have seen people die
like flies every time I left someone's hand.

| have seen them erase history written on me in caves

| have been thrown in the deepest ocean with messages

to our ancestors, who even today, their bones still lay still and
unfound in the wrath of waters, | am а memory they could never bury
a stone holding onto our ancestor's soul.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 15

Linda Wa Ka Shabangu

We Kissed

(A middle-aged man looking at a mirror)

Black tea with a teabag gasping for air, a pack of cigarettes, and an empty ashtray,
That's all | need,

what's missing now is the silence in mind.

| know my thoughts are calmed by smoke,

a bunch of blank pages and a pen.

My bed has become an ocean of tears,
a tear from this heart of mine, the one and the only,
my reasons of day and night, faith to fall or rise.

Faithful deeds

what god?

why is love a sin?

why are sinners haters?
What sin in my lust love?

How does love cage itself to thighs gently touching with palms of truth,
naked our bodies meet.
Do you think the king of this temple won't find the missing forbidden fruits?

Counting stars in her eyes as my sweat steals her heart,

a heart that should by law belong to another,

she is his queen and | am just a thief for passion.

She is no queen to me and a kingdom tonight sleeps without a queen,
she is in my arms.

The king is lonely without a queen, he is what she knows and vowed

into being with for eternity.

| am just a thief that stole a heart,

betrayed logic of knowing what's right and what's wrong,

we did it until birds sang myths of the morning, the truth was, she was in my bed.

What's right not to be wrong?

What's wrong not to be right?

Brother, my temptations echo in my heart, unfaithful | was to my own queen with the
heartbeat of the queen that was yours

Yes! We kissed naked, we did,

My bed has become an ocean of tears, a tear from this heart of mine,
now | am pulling myself towards myself,

waiting to be present in my presence.

Nothing could have ever warned me about the voices in my head,

It's morning now, my tea is cold, ashtray filled with ash,

| have lost time putting my thoughts down like a puzzle,

The world is blurry every time the sun awakes.

| am half awake and half asleep, this person | see now isn't meant to be me

(stands and looks at the bed)

16 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

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Nomajuba Hlatshwayo took the prize for Best Written Piece with the poem /n The
Mirror at the Res4Res Student Festival and arts competition held by the University
of Cape Town (UCT) in 2021. We present the winning poem plus two more of her
excellent poems.

Nomajuba is an ambivert, an artist, and a student. Born and bred in QwaQwa, Free
State, she now studies at UCT. It was reading that helped her discover her love for
creative writing at the tender age of seven. Soon after that, she developed a love for
acting and other art forms. She's a firm believer that she can do anything through
Christ who strengthens her, and that sometimes all one needs is a journal.

Nomajuba Hlatshwayo

In The Mirror

Hi. | wish I could say “Good Morning!" to you too sometimes
and make you think, even if it's just for a moment, that
| am as happy as | usually, naturally am, ог at least used to be.

Unfortunately, | can’t lie to or defeat you,

not when it's just the two of us. It has taken me

years and years of trying and failing again and again

in the name of strength and perseverance,

desperately needing an escape, but | think I’m starting to get it now.

Even the famous mother of success trembles and falls against you
just as easily as my happiness, sense of identity, voice, humour, power, confidence and entire
being did. So hi, just hello self.

I’m still broken, hurt, weak,

just as | have been for the past two years,

looking at you, my own reflection in a srnall, filthy mirror,
shadow of my former self: the woman

| was before | was betrayed by the one man

who had my heart and | was terrified,

before | walked into a heavily demarcated yard a happy child
and crawled out a numb, colonised excuse for a being.

The young woman | was when my hair was still mine,
when my hands were without scars and bruises,
when | was in content with who | was,

when | was still capable of decision-making,

when | still had a voice,

when | was still free.

Before | was a liar, a deceiver, a manipulator, a backstabber,
a burden, self-centred, two-faced, powerless, alone,
helpless, submissive...

before | became everything | am today,

everything | see in this mirror right now,

everything | had to do and become to "survive".

Hell! Before the light in me died and my darkest,
most destructive parts invited you in here and
locked the damn door.

Now it's just the two of us.

| have no desire to be with anyone else,

to let anyone else in.

The world shouldn't see me this dead.

Not when this mirror shows you so clearly that
my tears can blur you away no more.

So, | guess this is, for yet another day, our own
"Please do make yourself at home...” moment.

18 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

[epe 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

| will not fight that, fight you anymore.
In here nobody can see us so they can't pretend
to understand, make empty promises, worry, lie, leave me.

It's just me in front of you, crying and slowly accepting
the fact that being just dead must be much better
than being a dead-girl-walking.

No one can break this door and pull me back,

not now that I’m this far gone.

Evil Prevails

When we take no opportunity because we say we see none.

When we take no chances because we think we stand none.

When we wish for change but we don't stand to see it done,

Because we expect it from someone else who we suppose is bound by some obligation
Or qualification or just compassion for our need for mitigation in life.

Evil prevails.

It prevails when | choose to rather let fruit rot before my eyes than to share some
With a hungry stranger because | owe him nothing.

It prevails through ignoring her helpless cry from the street

As she begged for her life, thinking | couldn't have done a thing.

It prevails when | look away from a freezing, starving child

Towards the blazing fire where my unpreferred clothes burn and feel nothing.

It prevails when a perpetrator hurts me and | say nothing.

Evil prevails where there is absence of love.

Where discrimination and segregation matter more than compassion and togetherness.
Where status weighs more than humanity and arrogance more than happiness.

It prevails where there's mistrust.

Where deception for personal gain reigns over guidance towards multinational benefit.
Where fear reigns over hope and proof is preferable to truth.

Where lies and betrayal grow in the midst of injustice

And murder is used to protect devious secrets.

It prevails not only when we declare war against one another
But also when we fail to stand together for peace.

It prevails not when we stop preaching the right ways

But when we fail to practice them.

It prevails not when we are not able

But when we are able and yet not willing.

It prevails when good people do nothing.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 19

Nomajuba Hlatshwayo

| Dare You

| dare you to stand.

Beaten, broken, bruised

AS you are

| dare you to walk.

Walk. Let your legs carry you
To my door and knock.

Let those bloody, bare hands

Slam my door so | can unlock

And open it to find your hollow soul.
| dare you to look at me.

| dare you to dare rne to act.

Hurt, ashamed, wronged

As you've been

Dare me to react.

Dare me to hold out my hand

And pull you up and let you in.

Dare me to feel your pain

When I look at my door

Where your blood remains.

Dare me to believe you,

And believe in you

As | dare you to believe in yourself.

Dare me to be your strength,

To help you heal

And seek justice for you

As | dare you to let your voice be heard.
Dare me to realise that your pain is mine.

Dare me to remember that we only have each other.
Dare me to know that we are one,

So we can dare us, dare ourselves, dare each other
To stand together.

| dare you to speak.
| dare you to dare rne to listen.

20 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

Benito Trollip

Having been raised by astounding parents, Benito has had encouragement for all
the weird and wonderful things he attempted. He makes time to write poems and
blogs to give some form to his experiences. He has a mild obsession with flamingos
and crosswords - all serving him well when he needs something to write about! He
has learned to be thankful for all his experiences as they give him new perspectives
and ideas. The structure and sound of words will forever captivate him and will no
doubt lead to wonderful things.

Benito is a PhD candidate in Linguistics at North-West University and a researcher
in Afrikaans Digital Language Resources at the South African Centre for Digital

Language Resources (SADiLaR).

Find him on LinkedIn and SADiLaR's website.

Benito Trollip
Amper Lepoop

geskryf op die geelste papier rnet die geelste pen

As n naam, as 'n mens

nes die nienaam-niemens

met п net-net-heid van gees

en n geringe graad van jywees

kul n bietjie daar en 'n bietjie hier

en jou verbeelding kan jou in ontelbare rigtings stuur

by 'n blou stoel, blou

in my gedagtes is hy vlootblou, fluweel, amper te verleidelik
dalk nog sonder naam, maar met 'n vaste staanplek

die een plek in hierdie versmorende heelal waar ek kan
beluister, beduister, beliggaam en bestaan vir nou

in hierdie een stoel, die blou

ek weet plek, ruimte en tyd is nooit dieselfde nie

dink migrerende voéls, Hans Faverey, Heraclitus

maar dit keer my nie om die vlootblouheid te omarm nie
met verterende verlange skree my binneste vir nog blou

kan een stoel dié plek wees waar ek kan wees sonder berou?

uiteraard gaan n blou stoel met n blou dubbellontkers gepaard
hy ruik na die son en vryheid, al my klaargeskryfde briewe

in die vlamme verewig ek elke доене wens vir elke mens

maar dit is moeilik alleen in hierdie blou, om net te dink
sonder om te verbeel, te fantaseer oor wat kan wees in n oogwink

aangewese op my wedywering orn vandag beter te wees

om te weet dat gister en móre vormwvry is

bly ek bloustoelsittend vir n rukkie langer as aanvanklik bedoel
want ek weet nie wat buite die blou wag nie

dit is dalk nie wys om heeltyd net die slegste te verwag nie

onseremonieel gaan buite-die-blou-dinge gewoon aan

daar is nie eintlik iets wat net vir my wag nie

ek wil glo daar is mense of dinge wat asems ophou

belangrike vervullende dinge wat net vir my dophou

genadiglik is ek verlos en weet vrede en п bietjie trane wag in die wegsak in die blou.

22 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

Aisha Ibrahim Abdullahi, also known as Shatu, is an 18-year-old psychology student
from Kano, Nigeria. She began writing in the form of essays in secondary school. Her
writing explores generally untold stories from her community along with topics of
feminism, tribalism, and teenage mental health issues.

Aisha aspires to continue telling unheard stories that will help bring many serious
issues in her community to light, as well as inspiring young girls from similar
backgrounds in the literary arts.

Aisha Ibrahim Abdullahi

Tears of a Fountain

A name should be more than just a unique form of identification.
If it's so important, we should burden ourselves

with the responsibility to live up to the meanings of our names,
then at least in our good traits

will we be able to be unique.

Whenever ‘she who is gentle [mild-mannered][ wept in her position of face

in hands and elbows on thighs, the tears rolled down her face,

trickled down her arms, and fell on the curve of the cool cast stone beneath her
if the salty teardrops did not roll at such a leisurely pace,

perhaps a small puddle would have formed

beneath her drooped face.

But they evaporated before gravity oppressed them down,
at least that's what the woman thought,

a far fetched observation it was.

Almost as far-fetched as the observation that the crying girl,
'she who is gentle'

was unhappy.

She watched her from a safe distance,

the opposite side of the fountain,

through the pouring water and the few gaps barely present.
'She who is gentle' was not aware that there was another person
seated on the fountain when she came,

she had not cared either.

She had sat and wept for five minutes straight,

dabbing her puffy eyes and flushed cheeks and

occasionally moist forehead tenderly with a soft tissue.

It felt as if on that fairy-tale fountain

all of life was merely unreal and

only what was permitted could have an effect, to both women.
When 'she who is gentle' ceased her tears

she had sat blankly staring before her,

but | doubt the plain shrub housing a grasshopper or two

felt flattered or uncomfortable from her lasting gawk

as though her eyes watched her front

her attention was in a place lacking not only a shrub

but a fountain and an attentive looker-on.

The street lights shone over them but

the moonlight outshone in the fountain,

it stared at its reflection in the serene water.

Its figure was slightly morphed into a wavier version but

its luminous glow resonated louder than the girl's sorrowful emotions,
the woman's nostalgic observation, and

even the shrub's voiceless daydreams of blooming large

beautiful red roses so that when next someone stared

they would behold.

24 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

[epe 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

With a different name comes a different person

and if to say it was 'she who is lively' who was present

at that very moment when the girl turned her head and

saw a woman staring, from the opposite side of the fountain,
at her then she perhaps, if not only for the sake of the name,
would have resonated an aura of more agreeableness

than a gentle spirit could, and the woman would feel

the smile she offered more accepted with a welcome

rather than an insincere reception done solely

for the purpose of fulfilling societal protocol.

Her returned smile would yield courage to the woman

to walk halfway round the fountain to offer a hug to

'she who is lively' and have the accepted hug be so

sentimental that the ceased tears would return and she would cry some more.

Then, in the light of the moment and in the agreeable

trait of the bearer of the name they would sit and

have her share, not all but, that she has tried and tried and tried and failed that she is
hopeless, that she is utterly hopeless.

And the woman would feel compelled,

more from the sore sight of lost hope in the youth

than the happenings in her life

(which to say the least could compel her just as powerfully),

to tell her that she should fight her hopelessness,

that she should die being hopeful.

That in hope does life live and in the end, is where all hope is lost.
And a sensation of joyful despair would envelop the two,

igniting the lost hope in one and

extinguishing the unlost in the other.

But such simply could not be for one named and known for being 'gentle'.
For upon feeling that irking feeling

one gets when the eyes of another have been placed on her and

with intensity are being used to watch her then

turning to find just that with the wornan,

she went pale with fright.

She rose from her seat, forgetting her foggy eyes and

puffy face and walked away quicker and quicker wondering,
with a sick knot in her stomach,

how long she had been sitting there,

watching her.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 25

р 4 ¥ wv
P м ха,
МУУ МУ
° M.

Cara Helene

Graduated with a BA in English, Cara Helene now crafts with words and creates
illustrations through excessive consumption of tea fuel. A copywriter by day, author
and digital artist by night, she enjoys the nerdy side of life and constantly exploring
new topics and hobbies. Cara lives on a small family farm outside Durban in the
company of many animals and enjoys occasional adventures during board game
nights.

Cara's poetry is featured in the anthology Twenty-five Years of Freedom (2019) and
she published her novel The Lying Librarian in 2015. In 2021, she designed the
illustrations for the children's book Cloud Gazing written by Nitasha Ramparsad,
which is about breaking gender stereotypes in career choices. See her artwork on
page 89.

Find Cara's artwork and projects on her website and follow her on Instagram.

[epe 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Meisie's Minutiae

Вгааіѕ by firelight in the Transkei
Petrichor drips through the air
She walks the Wild Coast for shells
She roams

In the valley of a Thousand Hills

She reads her adventure books
She hides

She watches effervescence

She glides

Natal sands between her toes
White waves wash her feet

She sinks

Blowing steam over her glasses

She paints her nails to curb nerves
Books weigh on her shoulders
She studies

Sizzling potjie on the stove

Her painted fingernails curl her cup
She cries

Plaits in her hair

She sokkies alone in the kitchen
She graduates with distinctions
She clutches manes of horses

She rides

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 27

Cara Helene

The Dance

Her eyes smiled

Her smile sang

New emotion jerked her feet to move
And she danced a dance of solitude

Her heart longed

Her dance slowed

Her beauty grew with maturity

But death-like shadow mimicked her ominously

He saw her

She saw him

Heartbeats building began a bolder dance
As each repeatedly stole a mid-step glance

She loved him

He loved her

Through time in sync their steps moved free
The shadow forgotten in their dance of glee

She loved him

He loved her

Through time in sync their steps moved free
The shadow forgotten in their dance of glee

Her stomach swelled

His heart soared

Their steps prepared another to follow
But then below appeared the shadow

His dance ended

Her smile cried

Sorrow caused her an inner feud
And she danced a dance of solitude

28 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

Neema Masinde is a 20-year-old Kenyan living in South Africa. She studies Medicine
at the University of Cape Town. Her prose poem featured here was a finalist in the
writing competition at the 2021 Res4Res Student Festival.

Neema has a passion for words and loves to read and write moving pieces. For her,
writing is cathartic self-expression and a way to explore her unanswered questions
about the human condition. She wants to write more beautifully and to move
people with her words. She hopes to become a better writer and to have more
people read her work.

Neema Masinde

| Didn't Leave

Ice cold. Strong winds. Sheets of heavy rain.
Bare skin.

Under a leaky roof, inside thin walls, no power, no heat. Teeth chattering, limbs quivering,
hope dwindling. | might die here.

He has locked me in and taken my key and is gone. He took my clothes and the blankets with
him. He might not come back this time.

Light.

| must find a source of light. | open my shut eyes. No difference. I’m too cold to move. | need
to do something, anything, but I’m helpless; unable to do anything except wait — wait for a
man that may or may not return.

| think l'm going to die here.

Numb.

The cold has become numb, my blood at a standstill. The feeling in my digits, my limbs, my
face, my ears, is gone. | should move around, but the stillness is sweet. The numbness is too
sweet. | begin to drift. | drift off to happier places, warrner places, to places in the past, to a
time when the sun caressed my skin. | drift...

Time has passed. How much?

| force my eyes open. Light! | can see some light creeping in through the cracks in the corners
of the wall. | crane my neck to the left, something that requires all my effort. I’m looking for
the window from which the sunlight will come. | see no window. Where has the window
gone?

Boards of wood and nails occupy the space from which the light should come.

He boarded them shut. The bastard.

nothing left.

| drift away again. Darkness settles around me, and then makes its way into me. The darkness
is greedy. | am unable to fight it, and | let it carry me away...

Rumbling.
| am pulled to consciousness by a loud groan that stems from deep within my bowels. Food.

The chill that is now in my bones becomes insignificant and thoughts of nourishment
become the focus of my mind.

30 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

eee 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE
Hungry.

There must be something to eat. Anything. I’m weak. I'm too weak to look. | lift my head and

turn my neck towards the cupboards. They are wide open. Odd. | keep them closed.

Empty.

| close my eyes and wait for death.

Thirst.

A burning in my throat, hotter than anything | have ever known. My lips, my tongue, my

throat, drier than the Gobi. | start to dream about the rain that was pouring outside. When did

it stop? | imagine standing outside while it pours, opening my mouth, sticking out my
tongue, turning my head to the heavens. Drinking. Drinking to my fill, taking in all that the

Sky offers.

| want to sleep but the burning in my throat is too strong. | want to escape. With each passing
second, with each ragged breath, requiring all the strength that my body can muster, the

thought of death becomes sweeter.

No one else besides him knows I'm here. There is no one else. He never let me have anyone

else. He said he would take care of me.

Funny. The devil himself is my guardian angel. My only hope for survival is in the hands of the
man keeping me captive and sucking my life away.

Light.

A stream of light brings me back. | reach out to Death, ready to latch onto him. But the worn

safari boot by the door is not his. He's back, and slowly making his way towards me.

First relief comes, and then fear. The relief shrinks as he approaches, but the fear grows. |

don't know what he's going to do this time, but | know | am right to be afraid.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 31

THE JOURNAL OF. APRICAN: YOUTH LITERATURE

Anne Gertrude Tinargwo is 20 years old and is currently completing her LLB at
Unisa. She has always been a fan of reading, which later evolved into a love of
writing. She started writing in the ninth grade and the positive feedback from close
friends encouraged her to take it one step further and share her writing. You can
find some of her short stories on Wattpad. Anne enjoys writing in various genres
and ventures into romance, the paranormal, mystery, and LGBTQ+ themes. She says,
"| hope people enjoy my work as much as | loved writing it."

A аа». mE m
ДА а тата" E „„ | Дабо الحم ع‎ LA А
Г Y ши (еве Wy | | B | тен ии им в |
Дежа), | || i u - W 4 | | ин Є OS A BD,
F Un ШИШ Е м» "itat E ИШ IAS че WW ww»
мый

Cus

A Search for the Closet's Key

50 November 2006. That was a week ago, yet Themba could still feel all the emotions that
had bubbled up inside his heart that day. From surprise to elation, but which all was
crumpled down with sadness as realisation struck. He had gone through almost all emotions
known to humans in less than two minutes.

50 November 2006. The day when basic human rights were realised and accepted. The day
when many people would not have to skip their own country for their love to be recognised
in the eyes of the law. It was the day South Africa legalised same-sex marriage.

While others celebrated the new law, some people were disgruntled, and they felt no need
to hide their anger and disgust. Those people included Themba's family.

They had been sitting in the living room - him, his sister, and mother and father when the
legalisation became a topic on the news. As the news anchor announced it, Themba's
mother was the first to scoff in disgust before clicking her tongue. A ghost of a smile on
Themba's face that would have soon formed into a wide grin disappeared completely as he
heard his mother's expression of disgust.

"You see? Do you see this?" she fussed, finger pointing at the screen as she looked at her
husband. "Like this country hasn't taken enough rubbish, now this! They take this nonsense
from overseas and bring it here. They bring filth in Africa. We are being tested. We are really
being tested!” she yelled before slanting her head towards the floor and made a spitting
gesture.

In response, Themba's father shook his head slowly as he faced the screen, muttering a
response that harmonised with his wife's homophobic statement.

“Hawu, mama," Themba’s sister, Xabisa spoke. "| don't see anything wrong with this. If two
people love each other, why shouldn't they marry? You always say that everyone should
taste the sweet fruits of love and marriage, so why shouldn't they?"

Themba’s smile that had once disappeared soon returned to his face, but once again
vanished when his mother spoke again. Her venomous tone was sharper than before. "If |
should ever hear such nonsense coming out of your mouth again, | swear, | will do
something that will make you regret me being your mother. No child of mine is going to
support such filth in my house.”

“Mama...” Xabisa had started to say but she was quickly interrupted by her father.

"Do not speak back to your mother, especially on such a subject. We are cultured
people and we do not support such... confusion."

Xabisa huffed and turned her attention back to the TV in anger while Themba just sat there,
letting his parents' words sink in.

It was the first time that the topic of homosexuality had actually been spoken about in their
home, and it was also the first time Themba learnt what his parents thought of it. It only
made him more anxious.

On a morning like most others, Themba had woken up and prepared for school before going
to the kitchen where his mother would have already prepared a bowl of peanut butter
porridge. He greeted her as he sat on a high stool near the kitchen table. His mother smiled
and greeted him back before serving him a bowl of porridge.

34 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

JRNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERAT

He ate slowly as his thoughts casually landed on last week's conversation. Judging from
what had occurred, he knew he would not be accepted by his parents - should he come out
of the closet. Xabisa would, he already knew that, but her acceptance of his sexuality would
not be enough. He loved his parents, and he couldn't imagine living his life being hated by
them for how he was born.

“Themba,” came his mother's voice, interrupting his thoughts. He looked at her and her eyes
darted downwards, signaling at the bowl in front of him. "Eat faster, my child, or you'll be late
for school," she said with a smile before continuing her kitchen work.

Themba looked at her as she worked, noting the big difference between the smile she
usually wore and the anger she had expressed last week. His heart raced faster as the
thought of that anger being directed at him crossed his mind.

"Morning," came Xabisa's voice from behind him. He turned to look at her and was surprised
to see her still in her nightwear.

"Aren't you prepared to go to work yet?" his mother asked the same question that was
lingering in his mind.

She shook her head with a yawn as she stretched and sat beside Themba. “I'm off today."
Her mother hummed in response before serving her a bowl of porridge.

"Did you guys hear what happened yesterday at the Khambules?" Xabisa asked. Her mother
turned around to face her, already showing interest in the topic. "Njabulo visited his parents
yesterday, but apparently, not even two hours passed before his parents started yelling and
literally kicked him out of the house. He swore at them before getting in his car and driving
off."

“Why?” her mother asked as she put a fist on her round hip, eyebrows tightly furrowed.

Xabisa swallowed a spoonful of her porridge before answering. "Apparently, he's gay, and he
had согпе to tell his parents he would be getting married soon to another man now that the
law allows it. His parents were obviously not happy, and he was immediately kicked out and
apparently disowned. Poor thing."

Themba's brows had raised the minute he heard Njabulo's name. He was one of those
names in the village that many parents used as an example to encourage their children to
study harder. A man who many people looked up to. Someone born in a simple household in
a simple village who grew up to be a successful businessman in the city.

To hear that Njabulo was also gay had momentarily made Themba feel a little less alone, but
when he heard the outcome of his coming out, his heart immediately dropped, once again
throwing him into a pit of doubt, fear and despair. He had no doubt he would also suffer
Njabulo's fate should he decide to come out. He couldn't stand the thought of being away
from his family. He couldn't imagine standing on his own without them. Perhaps he would
have to wait, just like Njabulo did. He only had two years of high school left anyway. After
studying further and being stable, perhaps then he would be able to come out to his
parents.

"Poor thing?" suddenly came the sharp voice of Themba's mother. "Poor thing, my foot,
man! Kicking him out was not enough! If he was my son, | would have...” she suddenly
paused as she brought her curved hands up near her chest and shook them slightly, making
a choking gesture. Themba subtly gulped, knowing very well what she meant. She huffed as
she dropped her hands and turned around to face the sink.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 35

URE

"It must be the city. He must have been brainwashed by possessed people from the city. He
would have never becorme like that if he continued staying here in the village."

"No, mama," Xabisa protested, "No matter where he would have stayed, he would still be
who he is. He was born like that and..."

"Hey! Hey! Hey!” her mother suddenly interrupted her, turning around quickly to face her.
“I've warned you not to say those kinds of things in support of that nonsense. Otherwise, I'll
do the same thing that Njabulo's parents did to him!” she fumed before her eyes darted
towards Themba, who had stopped eating when his sister came in. “Themba, finish your
food and quickly go to school."

Themba had long lost his appetite, but he knew better than to refuse food dished for him by
his mother, especially in front of her. If eating slowly was not going to get him to school late,
his mother's lecture on not wasting food would. He quickly cleaned his plate just for the sake
of finishing and stood up.

He grabbed his school bag, but before he could sling it over his shoulder, his sister, who was
still eating, called his name. He turned towards her and she opened her mouth to speak, but
nothing came out. A few seconds went by and she still hadn't said a word. She threw a
glance towards her mother who was still busy at the sink then looked back at him again. Her
eyes seemed to say a lot, but Themba could hardly interpret what they were trying to say,
although he thought he detected a hint of pity in them.

"Ha-have a good day, neh?” she finally spoke before giving him a small smile.

Confused because he was certain that's not all she wanted to say, Themba's brows furrowed.
“Yah,” he replied, "Thank you. You too.” He finally carried his bag and made his way out of the
house.

Noting that his best friend, Samukelo, wasn't already waiting for him outside, he already
knew he was still early. Samukelo lived about a block down from his own home and was not
very conscious about time.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his school pants, Themba made his way down the
road until he reached Samukelo's place. Before he could even reach his gate, he saw
Samukelo coming out with his school bag slung over one arm. Themba smiled as soon as his
eyes fixed on him and his heart started beating a lot faster, practically pulsating inside his
chest.

Samukelo had been one of those factors that made Themba realize that he was gay. His zero
interest in girls had been a big hint. Instead of desiring girls in his school or any other girl for
that matter, he found himself closely watching his best friend. At first, he tried brushing it off
as friendly admiration, but when Themba found himself fantasizing about him and being
extremely jealous of any girl Samukelo ever got close to, he knew it was more than that.

Of course, he would never tell him. Samukelo was one of those people he feared losing,
should he come out of the closet. He might be able take ridicule from others, but he couldn't
imagine a world where Samukelo would look at him with disgust or disdain. That would
definitely crush him.

He watched as Samukelo closed the gate of his home and faced him with a smile. "Hey,
тап!", Samukelo greeted him with a cheery smile, putting his fist up then extending it
towards Themba.

Themba smiled before bumping his fist with Samukelo's. “Samu,” he acknowledged him

with a bigger smile. “Someone's a little cheery today, and might | also mention, a lot earlier
than usual."

36 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

ISSUE 05
JAN 2022

THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Samukelo chuckled lightly as they started walking. “What can | say, my friend? It’s a
beautiful day, and it wouldn't hurt me to be almost as punctual as you are,” he said with a
big grin as he lightly eloowed Themba.

"This new attitude of yours wouldn't have anything to do with Noluntu, would it?" he asked,
feeling the little sparks of envy bubbling up inside of him at the mention of her name.

Samukelo's smile brightened, only worsening Themba's jealousy. He had known Samu his
whole life, and even then, he doubted that just the mention of his name could make him

smile that much.

"Maybe," Samukelo sang as he shrugged his shoulders. "Love can change a man, Themba.
Love can change a man.”

"Perhaps, but | would like to remind you that you are not a man,; you are still a boy,” Themba
teased.

Samukelo laughed and shook his head. "Trust me, Themba, there's nothing boyish about
me," he said with a wink. The simple gesture made Themba feel warm inside.

"And anyway, when are you going to get yourself a girlfriend?" Samukelo asked. Themba
immediately felt his body tense up, "l've never once seen you showing any interest in a girl. |
mean, I'm sure there are many girls who would be willing to be yours. You are quite good

looking, after all. Well, not more good looking than me, but still."

Themba smiled at the compliment and couldn't help but shake his head at his friend's
prideful comment. "I just haven't met any girl that sparked my interest."

Samukelo's brows raised a little before furrowing as a teasing smile played on his lips. "Oh,
wow. Someone is a little picky.”

"l'm not picky. | just...” he took a pause before continuing, "have my preferences."

"Oh?", Samukelo raised a brow. "And what are these preferences, dear friend? You are not
waiting for some fancy-dressed, funny-talking girl from the city, are you?" he joked.

Themba shrugged in response. Samukelo chuckled and slung an arm over Themba's
shoulder. Themba internally prayed that he wouldn't hear the thumping of his heart.

"Oh, friend of mine. You aim for the unattainable."

“гп not aiming for it, just simply wishing for it. | Know better than to think or try to attain it,”
Themba mumbled, but it was loud enough for Samukelo to hear, which made his smile
falter a bit.

He let go of Themba, and they walked in silence for a minute or two.

"Look, | was joking,” he suddenly broke the silence, "It's not impossible for you to get any girl
that you want. Whether she is from here or the city."

Themba shook his head. “No... the person that | want, | can never get.”

Samukelo's eyes widened a bit. "Themba, are you in love someone?"

Themba chuckled; not an ounce of humor was present in his tone. "Don't worry about it,
man. Tell me about your plans with Noluntu. Do you see this going somewhere?" he asked,

trying to change the topic. He succeeded. As soon as Themba had asked that, Samukelo
grinned and started yapping on and on about Noluntu.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 3/

Soon, they found themselves in front of the gates of their school. They had hardly made it
inside when Themba saw a girl running towards them. As she got closer, her features
became more familiar to him. Shoulder length hair, plaited in neat cornrows, a beaming
smile, making the corners of her eyes slightly crease, but accentuating the twinkle in them, a
well-developed, voluptuous body (perhaps, too developed for her age) that would not cease
to go unnoticed despite the dull mixture of colors of the lemon yellow shirt and green school
skirt. It was none other than Noluntu. One of the girls among many who Themba secretly
considered rivals in having Samukelo's attention.

Noluntu finally reached them, and without as much as a greeting or a nod of
acknowledgement towards Themba, she immediately threw herself into Samukelo's arms.
Samukelo cackled as he immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, catching her
rather easily. The sight made Themba subconsciously frown.

After a few kisses and giggles and more embracing, the couple finally let go of each other
and turned to Themba, who immediately wiped away his frown and replaced it with a
friendly but rather forced smile. He could only hope that they wouldn't see through it, and by
the looks of it, they didn't.

Noluntu finally acknowledged Themba and greeted him with a big smile. A smile he knew
would disappear the minute she knew of his feelings for her boyfriend. He greeted her back
before looking at Samukelo. "I'm going to get to class," he said, using his thumb to point
behind him.

"Oh, come on. Stay a little longer. The bell hasn't even rung yet," Samukelo whined, his face
pleading with him.

For a moment, Themba considered staying, but as soon as his eye landed on Noluntu, whose
face clearly showed she wasn't happy with the idea, he changed his mind. "No, | have
homework that | didn't do. l'Il just find a class to get it done before the bell rings,” he lied.

Samukelo raised a brow. “You didn't do your homework? Could you at least come up with a
better lie? Is there someone you want to meet, perhaps?” he suggested, wiggling his
eyebrows.

Themba shook his head. "No. | just had too much work yesterday and dozed off late and
didn't get the chance to finish up my homework,” he lied again. “I'll see you later." With that,
he turned and made his way to class. He stopped when Samukelo called his name and
turned around to see him running after him while Noluntu stood where he had left her. He
tried to ignore the unhappy look on her face.

Samukelo finally stopped in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look,” he said
in a hushed tone as if he feared someone would hear him, "You and I still need to talk about
that person you like," he smiled.

Themba stayed silent for a while before looking down. A second later, he looked into
Samukelo's eyes and shook his head. "No. It's better that we don't. You should probably go
back to Noluntu. She's waiting for you." He stepped back, allowing his friend's hand to drop
from his shoulder and walked away.

He was sure that Samukelo was not surprised when he made an excuse to leave. He always
did that whenever his girlfriend was around. Not because he didn't want to be a third wheel,
but because he feared that his feelings would be found out. From what he knew, girls were
adept at seeing someone's true feelings. Though he was sure he was good at hiding his own
feelings, he didn't want to take the risk of them ever being found out. What he felt for
Samukelo was a secret he would have to die with for the sake of the preservation of their
friendship.

38 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

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ESN

Like any other Thursday, the day went by slowly, and the students did not do much to hide
the fatigue they felt for the amount of work they had the entire week. As soon as the bell
rang, they all perked up, excited by the idea of being able to go back home and rest.

Themba wasted no time getting out the school gates and rushing home. This was an
attempt not to run into Samukelo because he knew he would coax him to walk together
with him and Noluntu. He hated that Samukelo constantly tried to get him close to his
girlfriend. Themba could really care less about her or anyone else who Samukelo had ever
dated or will date. He knew very well that he was jealous, he no longer tried denying it, but it
never changed the fact that Samukelo still had a girlfriend. This was the only reason he and
Samukelo sometimes no longer walked together back home.

Themba missed those times when it was just him and Samukelo. A time when all they knew
was each other's companionship. A time when both of them hardly cared about love. A time
when Themba hardly knew about love. Now, he found himself rejoicing when Samukelo
would break up with a girl and dreading the moments where he would tell him he had a
new girlfriend.

Themba finally arrived home and found his mother and sister both sitting in the living room.
His sister slouched on the couch, remote in hand, as she flipped through the channels on the
television. His mother sat cross-legged opposite where Xabisa was sitting, a novel in hand
and reading glasses cutely perched on her nose. When she noticed his presence, she looked
at him over her glasses and smiled. "Hi, my baby. How was school?"

Themba smiled back. "It was good. Hey, Xabi,” he greeted Xabisa, who only gave him a wave
in return, still focused on the TV as she continued surfing through channels.

Themba went into his room and changed out of his school uniform before putting on
something casual. He went into the kitchen, knowing that his mother would have already
prepared lunch for him. He saw two covered plates of food on the table and uncovered one
of them. Rice with tinned pilchards and chakalaka. One of his favorite meals. He covered the
plate before warming it up. As Themba waited for his food to heat, he went back into his
bedroom and took out a few books to do his homework.

He went back into the kitchen again and sat with the now warm food on the table. He
alternated between eating and writing, careful not to spill any food on the pages of his
books. After he was done eating, Themba took his plate to the sink, washed it, and then went
back to sit at the table again to finish off his homework.

Themba let out a big huff after he was done and stood up, stretching as he did so. He
grabbed a notebook and a pen and started making his way out of the kitchen. He went into
the living room to let his mother know where he was going. He found her now staring at the
TV screen along with Xabisa. Her novel and reading glasses were now placed on her lap.
Xabisa was still slouched on the couch, the only difference from a while ago being the
position of her body. She often complained of back problems, and her mother told her
countless times that it was because of her slouching. It was obvious she wasn't taking that
into consideration.

“Mama, I’m going to the library," Themba told her as he started making his way out.

"Okay, my baby,” she replied, eyes still focused on the TV.

Themba was about to leave when he suddenly remembered something. He turned back and
walked towards the couch that Xabisa was slouching on. "Xabi," he called her, and she

hummed in response. "What did you want to tell me this morning?"

Xabi finally gave Themba her full attention. “Heh?”

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 39

TURE

"This morning, you wished me a good day, but | had a feeling that you wanted to say
something else. Maybe you thought | was running late. What did you want to say?" he asked.
At this, his mother also turned her attention away from the TV and looked at the two
siblings.

Xabisa looked at Themba with slightly widened eyes as if to silently reprimand him. "You are
mistaken, Themba. | really was just wishing you a good day.”

Themba cocked a brow. "But you hardly ever do that."

"Hardly, not never. It was one of those days that | decided to wish you a good day. | know
how hectic grade ten can get. That's why." Themba stared at her for a while.

“I'm sure my baby is handling it just fine. He always has,” his mother said fondly. "Time goes
by so fast, neh? Soon you'll be done with school, and you'll move out and start a family,

unlike your sister here," she teased playfully.

“Eish, mama,” Xabisa groaned, "I told you, I'm still saving up money for a new place. For now,
let me enjoy mooching."

"Don't you think it's time you actually thought of getting married instead of thinking of living
alone? Most girls your age have already started families."

"Hayi, mama. | told you, | haven't found the right man and most of the girls you speak of got
pregnant while still in high school."

"And do you think you will find this right man when all the housework you ever do is wash
your own plate and just slouch on your free days?"

Xabisa laughed. "If he loves me, he won't mind."

"If you don't get married anytime soon, by the time you do get married, your womb would
have dried up. You'll get kicked out by your husband and come back here.”

“And then | get to eat your delicious cooking and get to slouch, so in the end, I'll win," she
joked. Her mother shook her head with a smile and turned her attention back to the TV.

Themba smiled and bid them goodbye again before going out and heading to the library
after making sure that his library card was safely tucked in his pocket.

He spent at least three hours in the library before he decided to go back home. It was
getting dark, after all. When he got back home, he found his mother in the kitchen,
preparing dinner and his father, now back from work, sitting in the living room with his sister
now sitting upright. He greeted his father and started making his way to his room.

"Oh, Themba, whatever happened to you and Samukelo? | hardly see you with him
nowadays. You two are not fighting, are you, boy?" his father asked before he could get to his

room.

"Oh, no,” he replied as he shook his head, chortling lightly, "He has a girlfriend, so I just try to
give him space.”

"Yoh! Samu has a girlfriend? That's too early," his mother commented from the kitchen.

“No, hardly,” his father said, "Many boys have girlfriends at that age. | remember that | even
had my first girlfriend in eighth grade.”

“Yoh!” Xabisa commented simply.

40 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

ISSUE 05
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THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Her father chuckled. “Many boys are curious at that age and basically yearn for girlfriends. It’s
not a surprise, really.”

"Ooohhh, so does that mean you also have a girlfriend, Themba?" his mother asked in a
playful tone.

"| doubt it,” his father replied. "The boy's nose is always buried in books. He hardly notices the
girls around him. Just lift your head up from your books for a minute, son, and you'll notice
all the beautiful girls around you."

“Hey, stop trying to distract my brother from his schoolwork,” Xabisa chimed in.

"If he has his priorities straight, he won't even get distracted just by having a girlfriend. | was
a bookworm just like him when | was in school, but | still had a girlfriend. Themba is too
much. I've never even seen him once looking at a girl in a yearning manner like most boys
his age do,” he said before looking at Themba. "You are not gay, are you, boy?"

Themba immediately stiffened at the question even more than he had when this
conversation first started. He knew by the smile on his father's lips that he was just joking,
but he still felt his heart thump in fear. Saying 'yes' would wreak havoc, but saying 'no' would
be lying, not only to his family but to himself as well.

Luckily his mother suddenly spoke up, and although Themba was grateful for that save,
what she would say next only made him feel worse.

"Of course not! My baby is definitely not that. So what if he's focused on his books for now? |
am sure that one day, he'll have a girlfriend when he decides it."

His father chuckled and waved a hand in the air. "I was only joking. l'm sure he knows better
than to disappoint us like that."

“Disappoint? Yoh! | would bring the whole house down!” she fumed, "It's either | would kick
him out, or | would lock him up in his room until he comes back to his senses, if | didn't kill
him first!”

“Mama!” Xabisa interjected.

"| know your brother is not gay, Xabi. | was just saying ‘if, but | know that ‘if is never going to
happen. Not in this house. Not with my children.”

Themba had been standing there awkwardly, trying hard not to blink because he knew that
as soon as he did, the tears he was desperately trying to hold back would definitely run down
his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip, another desperate attempt not to cry. Without looking at
anyone, he turned before they could see his glossy eyes. "I'll be in my room. | need to go over
my notes.”

“Okay, my baby. I'll call you when dinner is ready,” his mother sweetly told him. He was once
again surprised at how quickly her venomous tone changed into her normal, sweet one.

He nodded and rushed into his room, forgetting to lock the door. He quickly flopped on his
bed and buried his head in his pillow, finally letting his tears out. He muffled his sobs, letting

his emotions out silently.

Her father chuckled. “Many boys are curious at that age and basically yearn for girlfriends. It’s
not a surprise, really.”

"Ooohhh, so does that mean you also have a girlfriend, Themba?" his mother asked in a
playful tone.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 41

"| doubt it,” his father replied. “The boy's nose is always buried in books. He hardly notices the
girls around him. Just lift your head up from your books for a minute, son, and you'll notice
all the beautiful girls around you."

“Hey, stop trying to distract my brother from his schoolwork,” Xabisa chimed in.

"If he has his priorities straight, he won't even get distracted just by having a girlfriend. | was
a bookworm just like him when | was in school, but | still had a girlfriend. Themba is too
much. l've never even seen him once looking at a girl in a yearning manner like most boys
his age do,” he said before looking at Themba. "You are not gay, are you, boy?"

Luckily his mother suddenly spoke up, and although Themba was grateful for that save,
what she would say next only made hirn feel worse.

"Of course not! My baby is definitely not that. So what if he's focused on his books for now? |
am sure that one day, he'll have a girlfriend when he decides it."

His father chuckled and waved a hand in the air. "I was only joking. l'm sure he knows better
than to disappoint us like that."

|”

“Mama!” Xabisa interjected.
"| know your brother is not gay, Xabi. | was just saying ‘if, but | know that ‘if is never going to
happen. Not in this house. Not with my children.”

“Okay, my baby. I'll call you when dinner is ready,” his mother sweetly told him. He was once
again surprised at how quickly her venomous tone changed into her normal, sweet one.

He nodded and rushed into his room, forgetting to lock the door. He quickly flopped on his
bed and buried his head in his pillow, finally letting his tears out. He muffled his sobs, letting
his emotions out silently.

He wasn't prepared for that question. Even if he was, he doubted he would have answered
properly. He cursed himself in silence, and for a moment, even cursed his parents for giving
birth to him. He had recently found out that they were homophobic to the core, but for his
mother to say all that, even theoretically, was hurtful. A stab to the heart.

He panicked when he heard his door being opened. He quickly lifted his head from the
pillow and looked to the other side, furiously wiping away his tears. “Themba,” came Xabisa’s

hushed tone.

“Hmm,” he hummed in response, still wiping away his tears as discreetly as he could.

42 JAN 2022 · JAY LIT

JAN 2022 +. THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE
“Do you mind if | come in?” she asked, the hushed tone still present in her voice.

After he was sure that he had wiped away the last of his tears, he sat up and faced the door
with a forced smile. "No, | don't mind. Come in."

Xabisa closed the door behind her, locked it and then walked over to his bed. She sat beside
him and was silent for a while. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know?" she said
before looking at him. Themba furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Your eyes are red."

“Oh!” he said in realization, his hand instantly touching his face. "Yeah, | got something in my
eye. They must have been irritated from me rubbing them too much, and I'm kind of sleepy
too."

Xabisa stared at him and smiled woefully. "I thought at least you trusted me enough not to
pretend in front of me." Themba didn't say anything, not knowing how to respond. "You
were right. This morning, | did want to say something to you." Themba nodded, urging her to
continue. “Themba, | know you are gay,” she said softly.

Themba's eyes widened, taken back by the statement. He quickly covered up his surprise by
faking a laugh. "What? Yoh, Xabi, that's crazy! Me? Gay? No, never," he shook his head.

"So when are you going to trust me enough to actually not lie to me? Or what, do | seem
that untrustworthy?"

Themba's fake smile immediately disappeared. In place, a somber look of guilt marred his
features. “No, Xabi. | trust you. | promise that | trust you. How could | not? You are my sister."

"Then why are you lying to me, holding up this facade the same way you do with our
parents?"

Themba's jaw clenched, and he gulped, looking away. "How... how did you know? I've never...
l've never..." he stammered, looking at his sister once again.

"You've never told me? You've never hinted at it? You've never shown it? Is that what you
want to ask me?" she asked. It wasn't exactly what Themba wanted to ask, but he nodded
anyway. She chortled and pinched his cheek. "This is not something you hint at. It's not a
game. It's who you are. l've known for a long time. Perhaps, even longer than you have.”

"If that is so, why have you never said anything?"

"Because it's something one has to figure out by themselves. Plus | didn't want to risk the
chance of being wrong. You know how | hate being wrong," she chuckled. "One of the
biggest hints... | would have to say... is the way you look at Samukelo. | hardly believe that is
just how anyone would look at a friend, even a best friend. And you never seem happy
whenever that airhead talks about his girlfriends."

"It's not his fault that I’m in love with him. That is my mistake."

"You are intelligent, but | doubt anyone is smart enough to actually control who they do or
don't fall in love with. Trust me, | know."

Themba smiled. "Are you perhaps familiar with that because of that lowlife Senzo?”

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 43

“Eish, don't even say his name. Even now, | still wonder why | fell in love with him. The
thought that | used to love him makes me shiver even today, but that's how it is. You cant
control who you love." She stayed silent before taking one of Themba's hands in hers then
looked into his eyes. "Bottom line here is that... | accept you. Whether you are gay or straight,
whether you like boys or girls, heck you could even like a lowlife like Senzo, but that would
change nothing. You are still my little brother, and | will always love you, no matter what."

Themba's lip trembled at her words, and he tried his hardest to blink the oncoming tears
away. To hear that someone actually knew his sexuality and accepted him had him feeling a
lot of emotions all at once. Elation and relief were the most prominent.

"You don't have to hold back tears in front of me. Let it all out, kid. No matter how ugly you
look when you cry,” she joked as she pulled him in for a big hug, allowing him to sob silently
on her shoulder. She smiled as she lightly patted his head, allowing him to let all his
emotions out before she could ask the next question.

After embracing for minutes upon minutes and Xabisa felt that Themba had finally calmed
down, she asked him, "When are you going to tell them?" She felt his entire body stiffen in
her embrace before he moved away from her.

"l'm not going to tell them. Ever."

“What?!", Xabisa asked, "Why пот, Themba? You need to tell them."

"No, | don't. Did you hear them just now? I'll be disowned, thrown to the streets and
forgotten, or worse. It's better if | keep quiet. | love them. | can't imagine my life without

them. | can't risk ever losing them."

"If they love you just as much as you love them, they won't want to risk losing you either over
something you can't control."

“They do love me. | know that, but | also know that they can't accept me as | am and...”

"So, what do you plan to do, Themba?" she interrupted him, "Keeping this to yourself for the
rest of your life?"

Themba licked his lips and looked down at his lap, where he was fiddling with his hands. "If
that is what | have to do then, yes."

Xabisa crossed her arms over her chest. "So, what? Do you plan to eradicate your feelings for
Samukelo, never fall in love with any other guy, and end up marrying some girl just to make
mama and baba happy?"

Themba stayed quiet as he mulled over the question. "Yes," he replied in a hushed tone.
"Since when did you becorme so selfish? So, you'll toy with a girl's heart, make her believe you
love her and even go as far as to marry her just for the sake of never coming out? How
different would that make you from Senzo?" she spat.

Themba quickly lifted his head and looked at her. "Don't compare me to him."

“Well, you give me no choice. Don't you remember? He used me, made me believe that |
was the one for him, and cheated on me. His cheating and your cheating would not be the

same, but it has the same effect. It all ends up with a broken-hearted girl who feels stupid."

Themba quickly covered his face in shame, more tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
“What do you want me to do, Xabi?”

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JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

She reached out to him and removed his hands from his face, allowing him to face her. “|
want you to disregard other people's feelings for a while. Think selfishly when making this
decision. Do not think of what other people will feel when you decide to show who you are.
It's either people accept you or they don't. It should not mean much to you if they don't."

“I'm scared," Themba whispered, “I'm very, very scared."

"You don't have to be. Not when I'm still here. If they disown you... then they are disowning
me too." Themba's eyes widened at her statement. "I refuse to let you live an unhappy life.
Mama was right, it is about time that | move out, and | will soon. If by then you tell them the
truth and they accept you, I'll move out happily, if they don't... l'm taking you with me.”

Themba's eyes widened even more. He opened his mouth to speak but found no words.

“Themba! Xabi! Dinner is ready!” their mother called out to them.

Xabisa sighed and stood up, then walked over to the door. She unlocked it, but before
opening it, she turned back to look at Themba then said, "Its up to you, Themba. An
unhappy life in the closet or a joyous life out of it. You don't even have to search for the key.
You already have it. You have to decide whether you keep the door locked or unlock it and
set yourself free."

With that, she opened the door and went out, closing the door behind her. Themba let her

words sink in as he closed his eyes. He pondered over her words before finally opening his
eyes, a look of determination glinting in them. He had finally made a decision.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 45

Sithethile Sgwentu

Fifteen-year-old Sithethile Sgwentu was born in Cape Town, South Africa. She has
grown up with different perspectives because she has lived with many different
relatives. She also attends an international school in Hout Bay where she is the only
black girl in her class. From an early age, she was introduced to fantasy fiction and
developed a love for reading and writing. She relates to Harry Potter as, throughout
the series, it is implied that the titular character is different and this confuses and
frustrates him because he doesn't know why. It also amazes her that one author can
create a whole world all by themselves, just using their imagination.

Sithethile enjoys Roald Dahl and is inspired by this quote from The Giraffe and the
Pelly and Me: 'A person is a fool to become a writer. Their only compensation is
absolute freedom. They have no master except their own soul, and that, | am sure, is
why they do it [gender neutral, edited]. "The thought of absolute freedom with
nobody to control you both scared and excited me. To think that | could write down
anything and the only borders would be the borders of my imagination."

mE 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Introduction to 'Lulu on the Shore' by the author

When I wrote Lulu on the Shore, | took inspiration from Catcher in the Rye and my own
observations. | chose to write a contemporary teen drama set in South Africa. | wanted to
reveal the reality of an imperfect character struggling to find their place in the world, a
teenage character who doesn't know where their life is going, but knows they want to stand
out.

| think that many people, teenagers and adults, deal with the issues the story deals with and
by writing 'Lulu on the shore', | hope that readers will be moved by what | have tried to
communicate. Whether that is a sense of relating to the story, a feeling of happiness, sadness,

or pity.

| hope people will gain a deeper understanding of themselves and others when they read this
story and perhaps experience renewal and a change of perspective.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 47

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Lulu on the Shore

| don't know why I’m writing a diary. It seems a little weird, to be honest, but my English
marks are low, so | need to boost them up by writing a long story. | told her | didn't know
what to write about, because I honestly don't. I'm no Roald Dickens or whatever, so how was
| just supposed to pull a story out of my ass. Honestly, adults are such idiots sometimes.
Anyways, the English teacher said that | should write a journal or diary or whatever. She said
she would give me three weeks to write the journal and | could draw a five-page story from
it.

So today | went sailing at Green Bay Yacht Club. | don't know why it's called that, it's just
some sailing club that our school offers. Anyways, Green Bay Harbour is quite srnall, just a
little small place in Cape Town. Nothing special. The people who did sailing were Jules, Luke,
Tom, Stephie and me. Oh, also this girl called Lulu, she's kind of weird. Like, she doesn't talk
much and you only really hear her name when the teacher was commenting on her good
grades and shit. Sorry about the swearing, | guess.

| was letting go, so the sail was getting bigger. | was catching some serious speed, but I
couldn't go out of the marina yet. Jules forgot her life jacket, so our sailing instructor Leo had
to go back and get it. That's why we were just sailing around the marina until Leo got back. I
think everyone else was fooling around close to the deck, trying to capsize and shit. But | was
trying to see how fast | could go, plus the water was really cold.

Anyways, | heard some heavy breathing from behind one of the old boats. Of course, the
wrong thoughts came into my head, so | hid behind the boat and put my hand against it so
my boat would stop moving. More heavy breathing, then a life jacket was floating on the
water. Now | was worried, so | listened closer. | heard something unzip. That was it for me. |
sailed to the end of the boat and saw Lulu. She was taking off her wetsuit to reveal her yellow
swimsuit. The yellow stood out against her dark skin. | snapped out of it realising that she
couldn't see me. What was she doing?

“Hey, what the hell are you doing, fam,” | said in a joking manner.

She didn't even look at me. She just jumped into the water. What the hell? It was like she
was trying to dive for something. | looked at her in the water, she was drowning | thought.

It took me a good five minutes to get her out of the water. She was trying to kick me away.
Finally, | got her out and kind of shoved her on the back of my boat. She was knocked out
cold. Damn that water was freezing! When | got back on my boat, | took a moment to
breathe. Then | helped her, letting her lay down on her back. | pressed my hands on her
chest. Water came out of her mouth and nose. With a gasp, she sat up. Blood started to
stream from her nose; she gave me a desperate look. She was breathing heavy. | didn't focus
on that; | just tied her boat to the back of mine. Was she trying to drown herself?

"Hey, are you ok?" | asked.

She didn't say anything; she just lay down and wiped the blood from her nose.

"Please don't tell anybody anything,” she said.

| nodded my head. When | got back to the deck, Leo was finally there.

“Yoh, that took long. Jules, you left your life jacket in the girls’ shower! Why on earth did you
do that?" asked Leo, as he helped Jules and Stephie. It did take long. It was already 5:50 and

sailing was over now.

"Jeez, what the hell happened to her?" asked Luke, who was already loading the boats on
the dock.

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JAN 2022

4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Everybody turned to see Lulu, who was lying on her back without her wetsuit on. She sat up.

"Er..

. | was looking at a seal. | was looking at a seal, and | fell and hit my head on that big

orange boat. | was knocked out cold, and Easton saved me,” she said.

Everybody nodded their heads. "Thanks, Easton. If she died, that would have been a lot of
paperwork,” said Leo. Everybody gave a low chuckle.

It must have been around 10:00. | was lying on my bed, just fooling around on my phone. So |
got some whiskey from underneath my bed and took a swig. Ja, | know | wasn't supposed to
drink at fifteen, but who gives a shit anyways? It's not like l'm an alcoholic or anything. So I
was drinking the stuff and fooling around on my phone, and | decided to go on the school
WhatsApp. | think Jules made one so that we could ask about homework and shit. So |
looked at all the people and found Lulu's number. Her profile picture was of her doing the
peace sign with her two friends. | must have had a lot of shit to drink because I called her. It
rang three times, | think.

“Hello,” said Lulu.

"Hey, how are you?" | asked.

"Easton," she said.

My name wasn't Easton, it was James, but because everybody's name was James, people
just called me by my surname.

"Yeah, that's my name,” | said. My words were a little slurred.

"Easton, are you under the influence of alcohol?"

"Yoh, what a fucking angel you are Lulu."

"Easton, please don't swear. Why did you even call me anyway?" she said.

"Well, | er just um. | just wanted to know if you tried to drown on purpose,” | said.

“No, | just had a bit of a panic attack, | guess. Why do you care anyways?"

"Salty much. | was just asking."

"Ok, Easton. I’m fine, thanks. You should stop drinking and get some sleep. | mean, bye, it
was nice chatting." That was a lie.

"Yeah, ok sorry, bye,” | said.

She dropped the call, and | slid the nearly empty whisky under my bed again. Luke was
going to be pissed because we were gonna save ії for his sleepover on Friday. At least I'll get
a reputation for drinking most of it. That's gotta be worth something, right?

"East, are you even listening bru?" said Luke.

My head felt like it was pounding. | thought about the habits | was falling into. | guess it does
always start by just tasting. Like when you skip a rock on water. It just touches the water for a
while, just skims the water. But it falls in eventually.

"Bru, are you listening?" asked Luke. | nodded my head, running my fingers through my hair.

"Bru, he's so wasted right now,” said Tony.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 49

Everyone chuckled. We were all on the soccer field. We were not really playing soccer. We
were just taking shots, and Tony was the goalie. Luke kicked the ball hard into Tony's chest.

"Ow! You asshole," cried Tony, his freckles disappearing from his flushed face. The field
erupted with laughter, and there were only five of us.

"East, did you have a little drink last night?" asked Luke. | was going to answer, but | just
ended up throwing up instead.

"Do you want something to eat, James?" asked my mom. | shook my head and went
upstairs. | passed out on my bed, and when | woke up, it was around 5:00 I think. Mom would
be out for yoga; where were Dan and Nick (my brothers)? Maybe that's why | act out - I could
have middle child syndrome, but somehow I highly doubt that. My brother started acting
out first; he's twenty-one now. He still lives at home, but he's usually out, so | didn't really
wonder where he was. But poor Dan was only ten, so he shouldn't be home alone. | went on
my phone and scrolled through my contacts. | called Dan, and he picked up.

"Hey, where are you?" | asked.

"Nick and Luke picked me up to go get some food. We'll be back in an hour,” he said, then he
dropped abruptly. Kids sometimes...

So | was slowly recovering from some form of what appeared to be a hangover and sat up on
my bed. | remembered that we were supposed to watch a movie for Drama today. Our
Drama teacher wanted us to do a film study for this unit. So | needed to know about the film.
You see, | was good at school, but cool enough not to show it in front of other people. You
kind of just knew | was good at school, but | never said it. You never say if you're good at
school if you want to be part of our group. Luke was the leader, if we even had a leader. | was
also basically the leader.

“Hey,” I said.

"Hi, Easton. What do you want?" she asked. She was crying.

"You're terrible at small talk, you know,” | said.

"Ok, Easton. What do you want, huh?"

"Ok, jeez. | just wanted to know about the film we watched for Drama today. | was sick,
remember?" | said.

"Yeah, you were something alright. We watched Titanic. It's pretty long though, so we only
got through the first 4O minutes or so."

"Ok, do you have notes, Lulu?"
"Yeah, | have notes."

"Can | come see you at your house? To get the notes," | asked. | regretted that immediately
after | said it.

"Yeah, | guess you could come today. l'Il wait just outside Llandudno. That's where | live,” she
said.

50 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

ISSUE 05
JAN 2022

4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

The Uber took me to the sign that said “Llandudno” just outside of Green Bay. | said thanks
and closed the door. Sure enough Lulu was waiting by the sign. She was wearing faded out
blue jeans and a yellow cable knit sweater. The sleeves went past her hands. As | walked
closer to her, | realized two things: nobody knew where | was, and | was still wearing my
school uniform.

“Hey,” she said. Her eyes were a little puffy.

When we got to her house, | realized how big it was. It was like a mansion, but she didnt
take me in through the front. Instead, we walked around through the back, and we went
inside this small cottage. It was nice and clean with blue window frames and a matching
blue desk. On the desk, there were notes spread across. We sat down by the desk, and | got
out my notebook.

“Ok, here are my notes. You can write them down,” she said.

"Oh, can you write them in my book? My handwriting is terrible,” | said.

She nodded her head and started writing my notes for me.

“What are you humming?” | asked. Lulu was about halfway through writing my notes for me,
and she wouldn't stop humming the same tune.

"A song,’ she replied.

“No shit,” I said, slightly irritated. More silence seemed to fill the room until she got up to get
some water from the tiny kitchen.

"Do you want some water?" she asked.

“No,” | said it rather bluntly. | looked at the notes she was writing for me. They were too
fucking neat.

"Shit, the teacher's gonna know I didn't write these," | complained.

"Ok, so why don't you just take a picture on your fancy little phone and go home?" she asked.

“No, no, just keep writing,” | said.

She did so, rolling her eyes the whole time. Once she was done, she kind of shoved it in my
hand.

"Thanks. l'Il call an Uber,” | said.

She nodded her head and went back to her water. | realized the time was 7:37. | was
probably supposed to be home.

"Do you wanna take a walk?" | asked. She looked at me like | was speaking German.

"NO, Easton."

So we walked all the way to the sign again that read "Welcome to Llandudno". She waited
with me for my Uber. It was pretty dark now and a rather awkward situation to just be
standing by the highway with her. | looked behind me at the view of Llandudno, hills with
houses scattered all over and a beautiful beach at the end. The water was so dark, with
reflections of the house lights dancing all over it. | wondered why | was there with Lulu.
Maybe I felt bad for her. Was she really having a panic attack or did she try to kill herself?
When you think about shit like that, it makes you feel pretty sad.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 51

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“Thanks for the uh note thingies,” | said. Why did I say thingies?
“Ja ok,” she said.
The car came and | jumped in without saying goodbye.

"Here," said my older brother, slyly handing me a packet of cigarettes behind his back. He
was using his other hand to give Dan a slice of pizza. | grabbed the packet of cigarettes
quickly and gave him R40. Then | went upstairs with Luke, who was watching what we were
doing. We basically ate the whole pizza in two minutes. | eat like a horse sometimes.

“Why don't you just vape? Cigarettes are so bad, bru,” said Luke.

He knew they were both just as bad. But vaping was cooler, so everyone vaped. | mean, not
everyone. Obviously, goodie goodies like Lulu didn't. | ignored Luke's comment.

"So the groups have been picked at random using the class list. Remember to share the
work equally. The details are on SchoolSavy,” said Mrs Ankola.

She read the list and sure enough, | was with Lulu and her stupid friend Mia. Ok, they were
both very smart actually, but you know what | mean.

"RIP East,” Luke shouted. Almost everybody laughed, including me. | had to. Sometimes you
just have to do things. So | sat down at a desk next to Mia and Lulu. They didn't seem too
happy that | had to sit next to them because | once accused Mia of eating dog, because she's
Asian. | didn't make the joke actually. Luke did, but | had to laugh along, even if | thought it
wasn't funny. We all opened our laptops and went on SchoolSavy under Огагпа.

The task was a summative assessment. We had to watch a film together and make a
detailed film study poster. She taught us how to study a film after we watched Titanic. | liked
that movie, please don't tell my friends though. There was a list of more movies for us to
watch, and we had to pick one.

Mia read out the list to Lulu and |: "Ok, so there's Good Will Hunting, Forrest Gump, Hotel
Rwanda, Stand By Me, Of Mice And Men, Dead Poets Society, Schindler's List, Romeo and
Juliet, and To Kill a Mockingbird."

So because I'm in a group with a bunch of girls, they picked Romeo and Juliet. Lulu opened
her laptop. An expensive Mac Air, like everybody else's. | wondered how she got it. She wasn't
exactly rich like everybody else in our school. | mean, she was part of CFUI, which was a sort
of charity that got you in our school, and our school would have these fundraiser events that
all parents loved to go to because it would satisfy their white guilt or something. l'm not
saying that most black people are poor. I'm just saying that most kids who did CFUI were
black, that's all.

"Where did you get that laptop?" | asked.

"From the store genius. Where else?" said Mia, quickly responding for Lulu.

Her friends seemed to do a lot of the talking for her.

“Um, so, are we gonna watch the old version or the nineties’ version?" asked Lulu, changing
the subject.

"The old one would be тоге authentic, | guess," said Mia. Lulu nodded her head.

52 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

RA A | TURE

After Drama, it was the end of the day, so Luke, Tony, Tom, Sam, Jules, Stephie and | were
just fooling around on the tennis court before we had to go home. It was Friday, so we were
having Luke's big sleepover at his Llandudno house. Luke was super-rich, just like me. His
Llandudno house had a whole separate one-story place attached to it which would be where
everybody would be sleeping.

Anyways, Luke pulled me to the side while everybody else was talking. He was holding
Stephie close to him. They were dating, and always holding hands, kissing and shit. So they
were kissing right in front of me now.

"Did you two just bring me to the back of the court to make out in front of me?" | asked.
"No man,” said Stephie.

She had a raspy voice and black hair with striking blue eyes. Very pretty, we used to go out,
but Luke doesn't know. He didn't need to know, anyways.

"You know Jules likes you, right," Luke said.
| knew that I liked her too, | guess. Everyone wants us to date or whatever.
“Ja,” | said.

"Well you should make a move at the party ok," said Luke. Then he walked away before I
could say anything else.

So Luke's party was fun. Not much to document, except that Jules and | are kind of a thing
now. Like we kissed at the party and stuff. Jules is really beautiful. She has soft wispy hair
that falls around her shoulders and freckles dotted across her cheeks and green eyes. Plus,
she was from Brazil, so she had a really pretty accent. | had myself the perfect girlfriend.

| guess | should write a little more about how we started "dating" but there's just not much
to say. | asked her why she liked me because | don't really talk much, so it's not like she knew
a lot about me. She said that | was cute and sweet. She also said that she liked that | was
quiet because it meant that she could do all the talking. | don't really know how to feel about
the last one.

I'm just glad that Luke interrupted us at that moment for dinner because I didn't know how
to reply if she asked me the same question. Just imagine she said, "So East, why do you like
me?" and then | just said, “Uh, | don't know." That would have been so awkward. | mean,
she's really pretty, and she's funny, | think. Her hair also smells nice. But you can’t just say
things like that because that's weird. So you just don't say anything at all.

So we were all sitting on the bench together. | had my arm around Jules and whatever when
Mia and Lulu walked over. Lulu looked different but the same. Her hair was in loose braids
and she was wearing her socks just under her knees. Not a lot of girls wore it like that. She
looked really nice. Anyways Mia told me that we needed to set up a time to meet and watch
the movie together. The one for Drama class.

"Oh, it's the lesbos,” said Luke.

They weren't lesbian. Luke just said that for no reason. Everybody started laughing. Damn, if
only you saw Lulu's eyes. She looked so sad, or more than usual.

“Easton, just look at your messages,” said Mia, ignoring Luke's comment.
They walked away.

"Just search ‘uptight Asian lesbo’ on your phone, and you'll find her text,” said Luke.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 53

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Jules laughed. | did too; | had to.

So that weekend, | had to meet Mia at her house, she sent me the directions and everything.
| was thinking of walking there so that | could be a little late. She lived in this big estate
pretty close to Llandudno. So we were supposed to meet at 9:00, but | was going to come at
10:00 or so. Anyways, | told my mom, who was putting on her fake smile, the one that she
always did when Dad came back home. She offered to drop me, but | said no. | needed to
clear my head, plus it was going to be Jules' birthday party soon, on the 20th of November. I
didn't know what to get her, maybe a necklace or something.

| was walking to Mia's house and | was feeling odd. It felt like there was a big apple lodged in
my throat. | don't know why I feel like that sometimes. | mean, on Thursday, | said something
rude to Lulu, but | had to. We said a few jokes; they were "racist", | guess. It was towards Lulu,
Mia and her friend Chloe. It doesn't matter anyway. | won't write that part down.

Mia's house was large, with a neatly mowed lawn and two Mercedes parked by the driveway.
| knocked on the big oakwood door and Mia opened it. The smell of coffee escaped from her
house. | said hi, she didn't say hi back. Instead, she just walked me into her house and up the
stairs. Then she closed the door; her room was massive! Perfectly carpeted with a big
balcony and a large TV. There were two beds in her room and Lulu was stretched across one
of them, reading something. She was wearing chequered green pants and a black camisole,
so she was in her PJs, which means she slept over.

Mia finally broke the silence. "You're late," she said.

So we were watching the movie, they were sitting on their beds, and | was sitting on the
chair, not really wanting to be there, but | had to. So once we finished the movie, Lulu
showed us the notes she took. That's what she was in charge of because she had nice
handwriting. Then Mia left the room to go photocopy the notes, so we could all have it in our
Drama books. Lulu and | were left alone in Mia's room for a while.

"You slept over,” | asked. She nodded her head, not really looking at me but focusing on her
phone. Which was some cheap Android, might | add.

"Did you like the movie?" | asked.

| didn't even know why | was talking; it's not like | could talk to her at school. She didn't
answer and that pissed me off.

"You know | don't need to be nice to you,” | said.

She sighed, “| just can't figure you out, | really just can't. You're nice but then you're a total... a
total douche. | just don't get it," she said.

| was surprised because she was quite loud.

“Whatever, legit nobody cares about your opinion. You barely exist. It’s sad, pretty damn sad,”
| said.

She didn't say anything, but a tear streamed down her face. | was starting to feel slightly
uncomfortable, so | was glad when Mia walked in.

| got up when I couldn't take the screaming anymore. Dad had come back home. He owned
a company called Softdrinks, so naturally, he was always busy. But he also didn't come home
a lot. He kind of just stayed at hotels and stuff. When he came back home, he was always
drunk or hungover. I don't really want to get into it that much. So it was really late and they
were shouting. | rolled out of bed to check on Dan, and he was in his room crying. Fuck, |
hate it when people cry. So I kind of grabbed him by the arm to take him to see what was
going on. Our family wasn't very affectionate, you see. | found Mom and Dad in the kitchen.

54 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

ко, W THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERAT

"YOU DON'T COME HOME FOR TWO WEEKS, PETER!” Mom screamed. She seemed really
pissed.

Dad looked really wasted, | mean he was kind of tripping over shit you know. Anyways, Dan
was still crying and shit, so | had to pick him up and kind of cradle him like a fucking baby.

“Mom please calm down,” | asked.

Dad took the plates from the kitchen counter and threw them all on the ground. Then he
started to giggle. Mom was screaming at him now; it was super tense.

“Mom, please chill,” | calmly asked.

She was just screaming now, no words, just noise. Then she threw a plate at me. Naturally,
she missed and it crashed on the floor next to me. To be honest, | snapped. Dad was still
laughing, Dan was crying, and Mom was still screaming. So | kind of shoved Dan into Mom's
arms.

So | walked all the way to the beach. | sat down on a bench and watched the waves come
close and go back. Nobody was there except me and some strange looking hobo sleeping
on another bench. So | lit a cigarette from the untouched packet my brother had given to
me. | liked smoking cigarettes because it made me seem cool. Sounds kinda stupid, | guess,
but that's the truth of it. Anyways, | was thinking about Jules. | just didn't know what to get
her. You know, in my opinion, | think girls are pretty dumb. Like, they have too much
emotion, you know. They're too worried about being pretty and shit, and they want guys to
be good boyfriends, like most of us give two shits. | don't know, that's just my opinion. |
decided l'd get her a necklace. | didn't know where | would get it though, so | started to lie
horizontally on the bench. Trying to sleep and all, but | couldn't. It was freezing. The cold air
just kept on biting at my skin. So | was just staring at the deep blue water. Wondering what
lurked beneath.

“Umm, Easton. Are you ok?" asked a soft voice. | felt a finger gently poke my cheek. | quickly
wiped the sticky drool off my face and sat up. Lulu was staring at me with those big hazel
eyes.

"Were you sleeping here?" she asked.

Poor thing, she was honestly concerned for other people, like anybody in this world gave a
shit about others.

"Ja, | was, and I still would be if you didn't wake me,” | said.
She rolled her eyes and started to walk away.

"Wait. What are you gonna do today?" | asked. To be honest, | was really bored even though |
had just woken up. | didn't want to go back home. She shrugged.

“| don't know,” she replied.
| was silent for a while.
"Do you want to take a walk?" | asked.

She shrugged again. So | stood up and we walked along the shore. She was very quiet. |
think she was remembering what a douche | had been to her the last time we spoke.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 25

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| chuckled. The soft sand of my feet made me remember how much | hated the beach. | only
hated it because of my fucking parents. When Dad “taught” me how to swim, he was super
irritated with a mix of drunk. Not to mention my Dad can be absolutely batshit crazy
sometimes. That's the only way to describe it. So he kind of dragged me into the water even
though | really didn't want to swim. | was choking on the saltwater and kicking and he was
just shouting at me. He was shouting really loud. | hate shouting. | really hate shouting. |
needed to get off this fucking beach.

“Do you want to run away?” | asked Lulu.

She looked confused.

"| mean, just for a day, we could walk somewhere really far," | suggested.

“Where would we go then,” said Lulu, as though she was humouring the idea of a little kid.
"Just follow me оК,” | said.

She smiled and walked behind me. When we got off the beach onto the road, | realized that |
didn't have my phone with me, which meant | couldn't get an Uber.

"How do we get out of here?" | asked Lulu.
"| guess we'll take a phela,” said Lulu. | had no idea what that was.

She grabbed me by the wrist to lead me to the front part of Checkers. It was covered by
trees, and there were so many cars there. Everything was happening so fast. Different people
were getting into the cars, all shouting in Xhosa or something. I felt like a little child confused
at the mall. Lulu with her hand still clutching mine led me to a white car. About four people
were getting into the car at once and one guy was standing in front of it. She started talking
to him in Zulu or Xhosa or some other African language. He let us in. We had to sit in the
back seat, though. It was a pretty shitty car. | was being squished next to a fat lady. The car
started moving around Hout Bay. It was so bumpy. | was amazed that the car could move at
all. Lulu took ten rand from me.

"Uh uh, twenty,” said the taxi driver, at least that's all | heard. Then Lulu started to argue with
him in the African language. Meanwhile, the three people at the front were playing on their
phones with each other. The fat lady offered me some gum. I took it; it was chappies gum,
the flavour vanished in a few seconds. Then the fat lady said something in the African
language and fanned herself with her hand. People laughed at her.

Finally, Lulu was done arguing with the taxi driver and handed the lady in front of us ten
rand. The lady in front of us handed it to the taxi driver. Lulu didn't know that lady. Why did
she trust her? Why didn't she wonder if that lady would take the ten rand for herself? Pretty
dumb, I thought.

56 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

SSUE 05 > T H [
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The car went around Mandela Park for a while and dropped the other people off. It was so
dirty. | know that makes me sound like a snob or whatever, but it really was filthy. Everybody
was walking on the street, some people were staring at me, some were frying chicken feet or
some other meat. But as soon as the taxi left Mandela Park, | felt sad. | wanted to see more. |
instantly missed it, even if that sounds strange. Anyways, soon we were on the road along
Llandudno. One side was the ocean, and the other was the mountains. It was just Lulu and
me in the back of the car now.

In an Uber, it would have been silent, but in this car, the music was playing loud. Shity music
too, in a shitty car with a shitty driver. The whole experience was shitty, but | kind of liked it.
So the taxi driver beeped at some guy waving at him, and the guy got in the front seat and
gave him some money. The guy was sloshed by the way, absolutely off his face with
drunkenness. He was slurring something in the African language and then turned to look
out. As he pointed at me, more slurs escaped his mouth. Lulu clearly thought this was funny
because she started very silently laughing into my shoulder. She was probably trying not to
laugh at his face and whatever. She was really laughing hard, like a little kid. | don't laugh like
a little kid; my laugh is almost always fake. Fuck, that was depressing. | guess watching
somebody laugh is depressing in like, a deeper sense or whatever.

We got out after the drunk man, all the way at Sea Point. The drunk man kind of shoved
himself out of the moving car. He toppled over and crawled to the pavement. This caused
Lulu to giggle even more. | tried to laugh too. | managed a stiff chuckle. Anyways, we got out
at Sea Point, by all the stores and whatever. So we just started walking in silence. We both
didn't really know where we were gonna go. Cars were driving by, people were smiling. The
restaurants smelled like food. | was surprised how many people were out at seven or eight in
the morning. The sky was a baby blue now, no clouds.

"Better than an Uber, don't you think?" asked Lulu.

She wasn't looking at me when we talked. She had the habit of doing that.
"Ja, it's definitely an experience,” | said.

She chuckled. "I've been riding phelas all my life,” she said.

"Pella, what does that mean?" | asked.

“Cockroach. It makes sense, they don't really drive, | guess. They crawl around the streets. No
matter how many times they get damaged, they still manage to drive. | remember once a
phela broke down, and the guy in front had to push it from behind to get it to have
momentum again. | thought that was pretty cool."

It must have been about an hour of us walking together. She was walking on the pavement
thing that blocked the ocean waves from coming on the road. | was worried she was going
to fall in. We hadn't talked at all, but | was kind of just looking at her. God, that sounds
stalkerish. She just seemed like she was thinking about something really hard. Her one
eyebrow would raise and then go down. Or she would move her hands as if she was in a
deep conversation with somebody. But then she went back to humming, the same tune she
always hummed, at least thats what it sounded like. We were walking past all the
restaurants and malls and stuff. | could see a McDonalds in the distance. My brother took me
there once. Our car smelled like weed because he was smoking it. Mom got so angry, but
Nick took the blame.

"Do you love Jules?" Lulu asked, stopping my train of thought.
| stared blankly. "We just started dating, like three weeks ago,” | said.

She shook her head. "Sometimes you really disgust me, no offence."

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 57

"Well, just because you've had intercourse with Jules and you're only fifteen," she said. What
teenager says intercourse?

“Who told you that?” | asked. She was silent for a while.

"Chloe told me. But she heard it from James A, who heard it from Tony or something. Tony
heard it from you apparently," she explained.

Tony was talking a bunch of shit.

“Wow, a lot of people are involved in Jules and my personal shit,” | said. | didn't say anything
further. | just left her to assume.

"Fifteen is too young, Easton. It's also illegal," she said.
"Well, just don't listen to rumours from little gay shits,” | said. | was referring to James A.

James A and | used to be friends in preschool and whatever, but then he started to hang out
with the nerdy computer kids, so now he's gay. | don't actually think he's gay. He's just weird,
so he's gay. You know, like how Lulu is weird and ugly, so she's a lesbo. | mean, | think she's
kind of pretty and whatever. But nobody else does, so yeah. That's just how things are. I’m
not homophobic or anything.

“Easton, that's homophobic,” she said.
| sighed. "| can be racist and sexist too. Which one would you prefer?"
| don't know why I said that. It just sort of spilt out, | guess. She didn't talk after that.

Churchhaven, | like that place. My parents own a house there. It’s super nice. There is a beach
and not a lot of people. Sometimes I go there with Luke because he also owns a house there.
We just sit on the beach and talk and fool around. The water is always so clear and quite
warm. It's the only beach | like. God, | missed that place. | wanted to go there. | needed to be
there. "You wanna go to one of my houses?" | asked, not realizing how much of a rich kid I
sounded like. She sighed, "Sure, anything goes today, | guess,” she said. We walked a little
further. We had just passed McDonalds, and I realized that we were in need of a ride.

"So how do we get there?" | asked.
"Well, we could always go to the taxi rank,” she said.

The taxi rank was damp. Damp and smelly and cheap, it was shitty. But not shitty in a funny
way, sort of a weird shitty vibe. Even Lulu looked uncomfortable, but in a less showy way, I
guess. So these taxis or phelas or whatever were big and white with the South African flag
colors on the side. There was some negotiation with the taxi driver, and then we got in the
car. She gave him a scrambled up R50, which was in the lining of her bra. We sat at the back
by a window. We were quite squished together and shit. She smelled like frying food. It was
a nice smell, it kind of made me hungry. It reminded me of one of my favourite afternoons.

My favourite afternoon happened the day after the worst night of my life. | don't remember
it well. | was eleven. Dad was being mean the night before he slapped Nick across the face
and threw a glass at my leg. At least he didn't do anything to Dan.

Anyway, the next day | woke up on my Mom's lap. Dad was making pancakes, bacon, ice
cream and strawberries. Dan and Nick were already sitting by the table to eat. Mom was
stroking my hair, and | had just realized the huge plaster that was covering my calf.

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They pretended like nothing happened the night before. We just ate food and Mom and Dad
told us a story about when they first met. | couldn't walk on my calf without it hurting, so
Mom had carried me to the table. We all stuffed our faces and Mom and Dad were smiling.
That day felt like it was shot in a movie with a honey-colored lens. That day was the last time
| ever cried. It was the last time we all ate breakfast together. The last time | saw Dad kiss
Mom оп the cheek. The last time we all said "I love you" to each other. It was a sort of
happiness no movie, book or song can capture. It felt like nothing could be so bad. | miss
that day. | miss smiling without having to like, force it, | guess.

"Easton. Easton are you ok?" asked a voice. Mom? | was sleeping on her lap and my eyes
were still closed. It was that honey-colored afternoon again. | smelled food, not pancakes.
Something else. | opened my eyes slowly. | was still in the fucking taxi. | could see the back of
the seat. | could smell food, but also perfume. So many people were talking but all amongst
themselves. | was drooling again. But on someone's jeans. Must have been Lulu. Gross, |
wanted to get up, but | couldn't. | just couldn't. | was so fucking tired that | couldn't do
anything. I just drifted off to sleep.

| woke up when | felt fingers tapping on my head. | sat up and immediately felt embarrassed.
She was holding two vetkoeks.

"The auntie gave me two. Take one,” she said.

| don't know why she called that skinny lady sitting close to us auntie. They weren't related. |
looked at the lady and said thank you. Then | took a bite. Damn, that was the best vetkoek |
ever tasted. It had ham or something inside and it was so warrn and salty. People were
talking, all in the African language, music was also playing from the radio. | knew it was the
radio because it said: "This is Radio 3000,” or something like that. Then the taxi stopped
somewhere in Millerton. It was also a township but with a lot of colored people. Luke puts on
a colored accent sometimes and says, “Dames.” | laugh when he does that.

Anyway, the taxi stopped and some colored people walked in. Some of them smelled like
alcohol. | wondered what my Mom would do if she saw me with Lulu in the taxi. She would
probably have a fit or something. Then | realized | had no idea what | was actually doing, it
was strange. | had absolutely no control over what was going to happen next.

It had been about an hour in that taxi when we stopped in a place called Yzerfontein. It was
quite nice looking with the pretty water and the sand and all the people smiling and shit. I
looked over at Lulu, she wasn't sleeping, but she was kind of just zoning out, | guess. She
looked over at me and whispered in my ear, "Easton, we need to get off here. | don't have
any more money, so we're gonna need to run off,” she explained.

Then she stood up and walked all the way to the driver's seat. There weren't many people in
the car now, just five or eight. So we walked all the way to the driver's seat, and Lulu must
have told the driver that we would be getting off at the next stop or something. The next
stop was only like, a kilometer away. So once he stopped, almost everybody got out. Then he
looked at Lulu and opened his hand as if she was supposed to give him something, most
likely money. That's when she grabbed my hand and ran for it.

l've never ran so fast in my life, and because of all the cigarettes and shit, | was breathing
pretty heavy. It's a good thing that it was just a straight road because I think | would have
passed out if we had to run uphill. The taxi driver was behind us, shouting in the African
language and shit. Lulu ran off the road behind a huge dune of sand that had green hair, ok
it was probably grass, but it really looked like hair. So we crouched behind the dune, and I
heard the taxi guy drive away.

We took a moment to catch our breath, and | could hear the sound of the waves crashing
against something, then people laughing. My breathing was finally stable. | looked over at
Lulu, who had a grin spread across her face. | lit a cigarette and offered it to her. She shook
her head.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 59

ДИ ГК A | ч г" лг г. AN AZAN IT I ITI Ty A TINA)
JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATUR
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"My mother’s going to klap me,” she said with a knowing smile on her face.
| laughed. “I can't go back home. | just can't,” | said.

| awkwardly held her hand. Not like how I hold Jules' hand. Like how you hold a friend's hand,
| guess, but | don't know how to hold a friend's hand. It's not like Luke and | hold hands ever,
shit | don't even hold my Mom's hand. But | just sort of held her hand, without it being
romantic or awkward or with any meaning behind it. | guess very few things really have any
meaning behind it. Or maybe everything has meaning behind it. | don't know; I'll find out
one day.

When we decided the coast was clear, Lulu and | continued to walk down the road. It was
such a long road. Like, really fucking long. It felt like this town was just a random place in the
middle of nowhere. We needed a lift to Churchhaven but there were no taxis. Lulu and |
decided to hitchhike, the only problem was that we could get kidnapped or something. But
anyways, we were walking down that long road. We were still holding hands, just sort of
sleepily going nowhere. When | turned my head to look back, | saw a black Jeep from a
distance. It was blasting music pretty loud. | held my thumbs up for a lift. Sure enough, they
pulled over towards us. Two girls were in the car, probably in their early twenties. They were
both pretty, Jules type of pretty. The one who was driving had long blonde hair and
sunglasses. The other had red curly hair and freckles.

“Aweh,” | said, turning up my charm to one hundred. The red-head did the aweh sign.

The one with blonde hair nodded her head, "Where are you guys going?" she said. She had a
mild Afrikaans accent.

"Around Langebaan, could you give us a lift?” | asked.
She smiled, "Ja, hop in."

The windows were rolled all the way down, it was hot and sunny, and Juice WRLD was
singing about doing cocaine. Running away wasn't as bad as | thought.

"So are you two like boyfriend and girlfriend?" the driver girl asked.
"Ja sure," | said, too lazy to explain.

"How old are you guys anyways?" she said.

Lulu had refrained from speaking; she just stared out the window.
"Old enough,” | snarkily replied.

The car soon started to fill up with useless small talk, what rapper we liked, our names, where
we were going, how we were getting there, and so on. Yet | felt at home in that car with the
strange girls.

| guess it seems a little douchey to say that | can figure people out. | can't, but | can figure my
sort of people out. | can tell which person has had money in their family for a while, or if they
had just gotten money. | suppose | can break down my "group" or whatever. There are some
categories | like to use. You don't use them in public or tell them that you use them. Shit,
don't tell my friends that will make me seem weird or whatever. Anyways, you get the rich
kid like the super-rich. You know what | mean, they've had money in their family for ages. Or
the kid who just became rich, like their parents had to actually work for their money. Long
lines of smoking and drinking, maybe it's just my friends and family. Usually, the super-rich
kids' parents are super depressed.

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The kids were raised by their maids ог whatever. Shit, | was raised by my maid. | guess | never
mentioned her. Mavis, that's her name. She's an old, slightly fat black lady. She has a very
kind face, and she cooks for me all the time. | never greet her anymore. | don't know why.
When I think about things like this, it makes me really sad, or happy, sort of somewhere in
between.

Once | directed the two girls to the Churchhaven gates, they dropped us off. | told the two
girls | would see them later, then | winked and did the aweh sign. | know it's cheesy, but
that's just what you do. Lulu got out of the car and closed it shut behind her. The girls drove
away. We turned around and looked at the gates. There was a fat colored security guard. The
road was long behind the gate. You could see all the lavish greens on the one side and all the
little houses on the other. Next to the houses, you could see the beach. The blue waters
dazzled like diamonds. But all of that was so far away. A long walk away. God, that was the
shit the English teacher wanted me to do. You know, descriptive writing. Apparently, | have
"great potential". What bullshit.

"Howzit?" | said to the security guard. He kind of just stared at me.
"Can you open the gate then? | have a house here,” | explained.

He raised an eyebrow and moved from his chair to get a clipboard. He scanned the
clipboard.

"Name?" he asked.

"James Easton,” | said. He scanned the clipboard again.

"K, Dames you can go in. Is this girl coming with you?" he asked.

He didn't look at Lulu though.

| nodded my head. Then he lifted the boorn gate so that we could walk in.

After about twenty minutes of walking, my ankles started hurting. | could feel a terrible
clamping feeling. It was so hot, | pushed my hair back and looked at Lulu. She was wearing
loosish jeans and a grey hoodie. | don't know why | only noticed that now. | guess I’m not
that observant. | took out a cigarette and lit it. Then | blew the smoke in Lulu's face.

"Your lungs are going to shrivel up very soon,” she said.

| smiled. She always looked a little more pretty when she was irritated. Not that that was
important or anything.

"Tell me a story,” | asked.
She sighed then asked what type.
“| don't know, I'm bored,” | said, between puffs.

She told me a story and she had such a soft voice as she told it, so | kept on having to ask her
to repeat herself. So the story was basically about Early Years at school. She was
remembering the time we used to play "kissy girls". It was a stupid game; you ran around
after the girls and tried to kiss them. It’s actually kind of creepy, | guess. But we were five, So
it doesn't really matter.

After another thirty minutes of walking, we were finally at the house. There was no car in the
driveway, which looked kinda strange. | was actually surprised that the security guard let us
in. The house was medium-sized, | guess. It had a baby blue roof and white walls. Inside
there was a room upstairs that clearly looked over the whole house.

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TURE

Down the hall, there was my parents' room on the left, and Dan's room to the right. The
room that looked over the whole house was my room. The kitchen was the first thing you
Saw, to the right. To the left was the sitting room. And straight in front of us was the porch
that looked right at the beach, or lagoon or whatever.

Lulu looked around the house, the way a child looks at Toys R Us because they know that
nothing there is theirs. She sat down on the couch. It kind of made me feel uncomfortable
that we were in that house alone. | sat next to her; | tried to sleep. She took off her sweater. |
didn't notice that half of her chest was covered in freckles. Since it was a croptop, | realized
that half of her stomach was covered in freckles too.

"Birthmarks," she explained when she realized | was staring. | walked to the fridge without
talking and scanned it. There was plenty of shit in that fridge, some of it was eaten too, like
somebody had been staying there, but the family hadn't been there since last December. I
grabbed a can of beer from the fridge, | opened it and took a sip. | didn't really like beer, but |
did like the "rewarding" feeling of drinking it. Not like I’m an alcoholic or anything.

So | walked down the hall to my parents' room, and the bed wasn't made. | looked around
the room. | saw a jersey and some of Dad's clothes on the floor. | knew Dad came here
sometimes, but | didn't know he sort of lived here, that shit's just messed up. | sort of
chugged the beer then threw the can on the floor. | burped really loudly and wiped the
remaining beer off my face. | heard footsteps and Lulu peered at me through the doorway.
Then she openedi it all the way.

| stopped screaming when Lulu started to snap her fingers in front of my face, the thing you
do when somebody zones out.

"What are you doing?" she asked. It seemed that | was sitting cross-legged on the floor. | was
so confused, | shook my face loose and stood up.

"Sorry about the screaming,” | said.

Lulu picked up the beer can. "What screaming? You were just sitting there, just staring at
the window,’ she said.

| was sure as hell that | was screaming.

"You know, you have a lot of stuff in the fridge. If you want | could cook something. | mean, I
don't know how long you want to stay here. | don't really care,” she said.

"Well, I’m starving, so yeah,” | said.

She walked to the kitchen, humming that same fucking tune. | think | should try to stop
swearing now.

So | sat down on the couch again and kind of just stared at the roof. It was white and clean. |
wondered if my mom would report me missing. | wondered if it would go on the news as |
thought about it some more. We would get a lift to a nearby town. | would draw the cash,
and Lulu and | would hit the road. We could live by the beach and catch fish for the rest of
our lives. We could make a water purifier. | remember when we made those in Year Six. That
would be cool. | knew why I didn't want to go back home, but I had no idea why Lulu didn't
want to go back home. | turned around and lay on my stomach so that | could see Lulu. She
was actually quite pretty. Not that | care or anything; she was alright, is what | mean.

Anyways, she seemed to be very busy frying something.

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“I've never seen this much expensive stuff in my life," she said.

She took out the salmon and cut it on a cutting board. The smell of frying onions filled the
room. | don't know why | wrote that down. It's not important, | guess.

The pan made a hissing sound as Lulu put the salmon in the oil. | smiled at her reaction to
the hot oil getting on her skin.

“Why are you running away?" | asked. She sighed, then poured water into a pot. | waited in
anticipation as she added potatoes to the pot. | think she was crying. God, | hate crying. |
nodded my head. | don't actually like talking much. Jules always says that it makes me quite
boring. "We can't just kiss all day East,” she'll say when | nod my head at her predictable
questions. | got some open champagne from the fridge and poured what remained into two
glasses.

"Have a sip," | insisted.

She shook her head and then she turned off both of the pots.

The sound fizzled away into silence.

"Eat, and l'Il think about it," she said.

It must have been 1:00 in the afternoon. | have never eaten so fast in my life. | forgot that |
hadn't really had a full meal in a while. | eat like a horse sometimes, | really do. Anyways, once
we were done eating, she put the plates in the sink. Damn, | never put my plates in the sink.
Anyways, once she was done, she just sat down and stared.

"Do you think anybody is looking for us?" she asked.

| sighed, “I hope not." Then | jumped up and went to sit next to her. It was getting really hot
to be honest. | felt overheated. | asked her if she wanted to go to the beach, she agreed.

There were only old people at the beach, except for one couple that was like forty or
something. | guess forty is pretty old, but | don't think there is a certain age when you get
old. | think being old is just a mindset. Or something like that.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Lulu.

| shook my head.

We didn't go into the water, we just sat on the sand and stared. | remembered the last time
Lulu was in the water, and she had some sort of panic attack or something.

"How the fuck do you have a controlled panic attack?" | asked.
She looked confused. "What are you talking about?"
"You. When you nearly drowned. It looked like you were drowning on purpose,” | said.

She sighed, "Why do you care anyway? It really isn't your problem, Easton... Yoh, like just shut
up for once."

| guess that's fair.
So we got back to the house. We were kind of just silent and Lulu passed out on the couch.
So | got thirsty and went to pour myself a glass of water, but the tap wouldn't work. | kept on

opening it wider, but it wouldn't work.

"Oh fuck,” | said.
JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 63

It would be impossible for us to stay here for long if we didn't have water. The place was
pretty old, so that was the only tap that had drinkable water. The rest was like, borehole or
whatever.

“Why are you swearing?” asked Lulu, who was half sleeping.

"The taps are broken."

She slowly got up and looked at the tap. Then she started to loosen it and then tighten it. I'm
not so sure why. It's not like she could fix it.

She fixed it.

"Do you ever get scared?" she asked.

"Of what?" | replied. | was a bit annoyed that she fixed it and | didn't.

"| don't know, getting older,” she said.

Silence.

"What's to get scared of? | can legally drink and | сап buy my own cigarettes."
She sighed. "Of course, I forgot that your life is practically handed to you."
"Shut the fuck up. | hate it when people say that. What does that even mean?"
"It means that you don't have to work hard at anything,” she said calmly.
"That has its own problems,” | admitted.

"Like what, Easton?" she said.

"| don't know. It gets pretty boring. It's like, no matter what | do, | don't get in trouble. So then
you can just do anything and nothing happens.”

"Easton, what could possibly be wrong with that?" she chuckled.

"Everything! | can do everything, what's right about that? But you wouldn't understand
because saying stuff like that makes me sound like a douche.”

“Well, maybe that's because you are one. Look East, maybe it's boring for both sides. I’m just
saying you don't have to act like your friends. You could be better than that."

No, | couldn't.

Anyways that’s pretty much all to report from my failed attempt to run away. My mom
figured out where | was and picked me up at Churchhaven. Lulu was dropped off by
Mandela Park. She didn't live there, but Mom never really bothered to ask.

"What is wrong with you James? Huh?" asked Mom.

| didn't reply. | looked out of the window. | watched the setting transition from poor
township to rich and lavish estate. It made me hate myself for a few moments.

"JAMES!" Morn shouted.

"What?" I said.

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She started talking about me and my life choices and whatever. Then she said something
about how she knows it's hard, the usual bullcrap. | got out of the car and went straight to
my room. | knew | had school the next day. | looked at my phone. | had about a thousand
WhatsApp and Instagram notifications. | didn't care though.

"What is this?" asked Mom. She woke me up and shoved the cigarettes in my face. Must
have fallen out of my pocket.

“Thanks,” | said and took the pack from her.

She watched in horror as | used my lighter to light my cigarette. Then | blew some smoke in
her face. | think she was about to cry. | smiled. She slapped me through the face so hard that
the cigarette fell out of my mouth. She grabbed it and threw it out of the window.

"James, this needs to stop. | don't want you smoking in this house again, she said.

Then she walked out of the door.

“Fuck you,” | said.

| caught up with Luke at school. | didn't tell him about Lulu though. Then | talked with Jules;
she kissed me on the cheek. We all started planning the next time all of us would meet up.
When the bell rang, we didn't go to class right away, we started mimicking TikTok dances
and laughing our asses off instead. | was finally home.

all the same person.

"East." We would all grow up to have the sarme lives, even if they were different, they would
be the same.

“EASTON.” Not that | always made the "right" choices, but it was what | was supposed to do, |
guess.

"JAMES EASTON,” Luke, Tony, Tom, Sam, Jules and Stephie shouted.
"Jesus, why are all of you shouting in my fucking face?" | asked.
"Bruh, we've been saying your name though," said Luke.

“Oh,” | said.

“Babe, are you ok?” asked Jules.

| nodded my head.

Sam looked at his phone, “Oh shit, we missed history,” he said.

Damn, Mr Kehnie was going to kill us.

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"How was school?" Mom asked. She had just picked me up from school.
“Fine,” | said.

"How's Julie?” Mom asked.

How did she know about Jules?

"Her Mom told me. | didn't know you had a girlfriend,” she said.

“Uh huh,” | said.

“Her Mom actually invited us over for dinner,” she said.

“Ok,” | said.

“Mom, do you want to take me to lunch now, we could go to a restaurant? If you want,” |
asked.

“Oh, ok,” she said. She sounded very surprised.

| realized that Mom and | didn't really ever have conversations longer than two minutes. She
talked about school when she was younger and all the "shenanigans" (I think that word is
pretty cringy) she and her friends got up to. | always find it interesting to watch people while
they talk. Even though Mom was looking at me, it looked like she was looking far away. Mom
was actually really pretty. She had long honey blonde hair that was always braided. She had
grey eyes and a really pretty smile. | wondered if Dad said she was pretty. Then |
remembered my art project. We were supposed to draw somebody, but very realistically. |
thought that а draw Mom. Her school stories made her sound like Jules. | wondered if I'd
marry Jules, then I'd probably become a cheating alcoholic too. | guess we all become like
our parents, and if we try not to, we're just more like them than ever.

After lunch, | went to Luke's house and we did some skating and smoked some cigarettes.
When | went home, | tried to do my homework, but my brain was kind of distracted. |
managed to do the sketch of Mom though, | painted it and everything. It looked just like a
picture. | didn't show the painting to her though, that's kind of gay. Anyways, | realised Dad
wasn't horne. I forgot that he had to go to Joburg for a work thing. | couldn't sleep that night.
At around four in the morning, | went on my phone. I looked at Lulu's WhatsApp; she was
online. So | called her even though it was late, or early | guess.

"Easton, why are you calling me?" she asked. She sounded a bit sleepy.

“What?”

"You know, we would ask other people to spell out ‘I cup’. It spelt ‘I see you pee’, and we used
to giggle about it for hours. You remember that, right?" | asked. | think | was feeling
nostalgic. We just learnt about that word the other day.

"| remember that, actually. Lol, that was so random,” she said.

It was random, | guess. She started laughing the way she always did.

"Yoh, you're so weird, Easton. Like, | thought you were a 'cool' guy and whatever, but you're
just weird," she said between bursts of laughter.

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“Well, your friend Chloe is weird too. Isn't she a furry?” | asked.

Lulu laughed, "Yeah, she is."

“Is she like, attracted to dogs or something?" | asked.

"Easton, you can't say things like that; it's mean,” she said. Her tone was serious.
"Oh, | said. She started laughing.

“I'm just kidding. You sounded like you cared for once,” she said, but in a jokey way. | started
laughing too.

"It's lovely, Easton. Amazing attention to detail in the eyes. Ja, it's lovely," said Mr Black. It was
the next day, and | was at art class. Mr Black (our art teacher) made everybody show him our
progress on our "artworks." | thought that after the compliment, he would let me go back to
my seat, but instead he decided to show my "artwork" to the whole class.

“Is that your Mom, East?" asked Luke.
Everybody started laughing. God, when's the last time | felt embarrassed?

"Luke, why the fuck are you staring at my Mom? Fucking creep, is that why you're always
coming to my house?" | said.

We were just playing around and all, but Mr Black thought it wasn't too funny, and he sent
me to our principal's office.

| made sure it took a while to get there because | was feeling a little dorky after | put so
much effort into my “artwork”, so | sort of hung around the older girls for a bit. | think they
were doing drama because they were reading off a script. | grabbed a script from the cutest
girl's hand and started running and reciting the lines. She ran after me. “Oh my god, stop it,”
she said. But we were just fooling around. So | must have been flirting with those girls for
about five minutes when we all got bored of each other, so | decided to go to the principal's
office.

| was walking down the hallway to his office and whatever, but | ran into Lulu. She was just
walking out of Miss Zilon's office. She looked drained, | never really understood what looking
drained meant, but now I do. It sort of looked like somebody had taken a tube and sucked all
the air out of her. | know that sounds dramatic, but that's just what it looked like. She didn't
even look at me; she just walked right past me. It almost felt like she was walking through
me. Like in those movies with the ghosts.

“Tsk tsk tsk James,” said Mr Rudy (the principal). "James, this must be the third time you've
been in my office this term,” he said.

| nodded my head.

He sighed. "You're a good kid. You get good grades ok. I'm going to let you off for now,” he
said.

Then | think | nodded my head, or maybe | mumbled sorry. | don't know. All | remember is
that when | got out of his office, the bell rang for break time. | didn't go straight to Luke and
them though. Instead, | tried to find Lulu because she just didn't look like herself. Not that |
care, it was just surprising, that's all. So | kind of just looked around, | went pretty much
everywhere, but | found her and her friends sitting behind the big wall behind the math
teacher's class. All that was behind that wall were two blue benches. It was extremely
separate. Luke Sam and Tony were caught smoking a cigarette there once. So it was kind of
a surprise to see Lulu, Mia and Chloe there. They were kind of just sitting there.

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They were kind of just sitting there. Chloe and Mia were sitting on opposite sides of the
bench, and Lulu was kind of just stretched across the bench. Her head was on Mia's lap, and
her feet were resting on Chloe's lap.

| guess | should be more descriptive when it comes to people's looks. Chloe had brown-
blonde hair that was always kinda poufy. She also wore dog ears on a headband. | don't even
know how that's allowed. Anyways, Mia had black straight hair that was always tied in
pigtails. | think | already said what Lulu looks like. It's not that important. | just thought Га be
a little more descriptive.

“Why are you just staring at us?" asked Lulu.

| didn't think they could see me.

“I uh, | was just... | wanted to sit here," | mumbled.

They kind of just looked at me and then Mia sighed. "Well we're sitting here,” she said.

| didn't ask anything. | just sat on the bench opposite them.

They pretended like | wasn't there; it felt like the roles were being reversed. Without Luke, |
couldn't think of an insult. | kind of just went on my phone and listened to them talk. | didn't
want to leave anyways.

"Ok, the best male singer,” said Lulu.

"Jon Bon Jovi," quickly replied Chloe.

Lulu and Mia groaned.

“No, it's one hundred per cent David Bowie,” said Lulu.

"Gross, that guy just gives me the creeps,” said Chloe.

Then Mia argued that it was Mozart.

“He doesn't even sing though,” said Lulu.

"Oh whatever, he's so much better and classy than whoever you just said," she said.

Lulu and Chloe looked horrified. It was hilarious.

"Ok, since we can't decide who is the best, we can at least come to an agreement and say
that Freddie Mercury is the second best,” said Lulu.

Chloe and Mia nodded their heads.
"What do you think, Easton?" asked Lulu.
She sat up and looked at me.

Mia looked extremely surprised. Chloe sort of looked disgusted. | forgot that people like Lulu
and them didn't really like me.

"That's just sad. How have you never listened to David Bowie? Jon Bon Jovi? Or Queen?"
asked Lulu.

"| don't know, aren't those guys like, pretty old?" | asked.

68 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

ISSUE 05
JAN 2022

THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Lulu, Chloe and Mia gave an audible sigh.

“You need to listen to better music than Juice WRLD,” said Chloe.

After an extra tiring school week, it was finally Friday. When | got home, | was immediately
reminded that my Mom and | had to go to have dinner with Jules and her Mom. | really
didn't want to, if | can be honest with you. | didn't really think | liked Jules. | don't think | ever
liked Jules. She's a nice girl and whatever. | mean, she's pretty, but that's pretty much all I
know about her and everybody knows that she's pretty. Anyways, Mavis told me to go
shower, so | showered and then | put on some clothes because | realized that | had been
living in my school uniform for a while. | really needed to cut my hair. It was starting to curl at
the ends. | didn't even know my hair could do that. It kind of made me look like a stoned
skater dude, not that I really care. It's just that | hadn't looked in the mirror for a while.

Jules' house was huge. It was all wooden and kind of looked like a really big treehouse. I
wondered what her Mom did for a living. Anyways, after | said hi to her Mom, | went up to
Jules’ room while our Moms went to the living room.

“You look nice,” | said.

"That's the first thing you've said to me in four days,” she said.

She seemed a little irritated, and to be honest | didn't know what to do. She sat down on her
bed, and | sort of awkwardly sat next to her and put my hand on her shoulder. This is why |
think girls are stupid. If we weren't “dating” would she even care? It’s not like we could talk
about a lot of stuff anyways. | don't even like talking.

"I'm sorry,” | said.

"It's not about being sorry, East. You're always sorry,” she replied.

That's not true, | think this must be the first time I've ever even said sorry to her. She stood up
and moved my hand away.

"Do you even like me?" she asked.
There was a pause.
"Of course | like you, Jules. We've been friends for ages,” | said.

"East, we've all been friends for ages. You dont like Tony, but you guys have been friends for
ages. I’m not trying to go after you; it's just like sometimes you're not even there,” she said.

| think she was about to cry. God, really, really hate crying. Yet, people always seem to cry in
front of me.

“Why do you even care anyways?” | said.
She looked shocked. “What the fuck East?”
“Blah blah blah, everyone's always in my fucking ear all the time,” | said.

She laughed, the way you do when you're really pissed off with somebody, and you don't
know what to say.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 69

"So that's why you never talk. Whatever comes out of your mouth is just bullshit," she said.
"You're the exact same, it's just sadder because you talk all the time,” | replied.

So you can imagine how awkward dinner was. We didn't really talk to each other after that.
It's not like our moms noticed; they were so busy with their own conversation. | guess

everybody is busy with their own stuff all the time. The next day Lulu called me. She never
calls so | was pretty surprised.

"Hey Easton. | was just wondering if you felt like driving. | mean, | guess it sounds stupid, but
Mia's older sister is in town, and she said we could invite anybody to go on a little drive," she
said.

“Hey, I'm sorry about my Mom dropping you off at Mandela Park and whatever.”

"No worries, | needed the exercise anyways."

But I still felt bad.

She told me what time, and | told her а come over. | hope my friends never find out about
this stuff.

“Where are you going, James?" asked Mom.
"Out, Mom.”

She never usually asked me where | was going, so | was pretty pissed off that she didn't just
let me leave.

"Out where, with who?" she asked.
"With friends, Mom. Out to like, the beach or something,” | said.

She said ok, but that | should text her. Why the hell did she care? It's not like | was going out
doing "bad" things. Damn, this was probably the one time that | was going to do something
"normal."

So | walked down to Lulu's house, and we talked for a bit. Once again, she didn't take me to
the main house, she just took me into that really small cottage. | didn't care though. | was
just happy to be there.

"How was your Friday?" she asked. She was wearing jeans and a crop Rolling Stones t-shirt.
She had a bandana on her head. She was washing some dishes while she was talking.

"Uh, Easton?" she said.

"Oh, uh my Friday was pretty bad, not gonna lie. | kinda think Jules and | may have broken
up, | said.

She sighed. “Well, | guess it’s not fun to focus on that stuff. Just try to have fun today.”

Mia’s older sister was not like what | imagined. She drove one of those old yellow
Volkswagen vans. She was also listening to music pretty loud, but old school music. When
Lulu and | got into her van, | realized that besides the driver's seat, it didn't have any seats.
Instead, there were blankets and very thin camping mattresses laid on the ground. When I
got into the car, | greeted her and everybody else with an aweh. Chloe was wearing a red
dress and dog ears with a matching dog collar. Mia was wearing an LV sweater and tights.
But both of them were wearing the same facial expression.

70 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

JU eem
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It had been about ten minutes in the car; there was absolute silence, besides the music and
Mia shouting at her sister in like, Chinese or something. | don’t know if she was angry or not.

Chloe broke the silence by saying, “Why the hell is he here?”
“Guys, don't be mean. Plus you said | could invite a friend,”

“OH OK Lulu a friend! | mean, | Know Chloe was being a bit irrational, but like two weeks ago,
you hated him,” Mia said.

This argument continued between them for about ten minutes. They almost acted like |
wasn't even there. Lulu settled the situation after a while and they were back to talking
about random stuff. | wasn't really talking, but that was ok. | was fine just being there.

So | think we were driving to Blouberg because that's what Mei (Mia’s sister) said. | learnt
some new things about all of them. Like how Lulu is obsessed with music and Mia loved
everything to do with cooking and how Chloe actually knew a lot of things about animals,
like a lot. So | told them about how much I like movies, and they were actually surprised.

"| actually really liked Titanic though,” | said.
There was silence. Then Lulu burst out laughing, the way she always does.
"Titanic was so bad. The only thing good about that movie was young Leo,” she said.

| was offended, don't tell my friends this, but | actually think it's my favourite movie. Chloe
went on to call the movie cheesy and other stuff. But then the car went super silent. Until
the next song started playing.

"Put it louder," said Lulu. They all started dancing. Lulu grabbed my hand and started sway-
dancing. | didn't know what song it was. Then Lulu sang the opening line.

"| can't get no satisfaction," she sang, very off-key.

Mia pretended to do the drums, Chloe played the air guitar, and Lulu kept on singing off-key.
Then they all screamed. "No no no. Bum bum bum bum bum... Hey hey hey! Bu bu da bu.

|”

That's what | say!

| laughed really hard at her terrible singing. | don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life.
Mei blasted the music up and opened all the windows, and for a second while the song was
playing, it almost felt like the music was slowing down. For a second, it went silent. | knew it
wasn't silent at all, but that's just what it felt like. It felt like that honey-colored afternoon
again. When the music ended, everybody was out of breath.

"That was some of the worst singing l've ever heard,” | said, between breaths.

"Oh dont lie, you loved it,” said Lulu.

So we got to Blouberg and went to this little ice cream place. We got ice cream and kind of
just walked around the beach. We were all talking about movies or music or whatever.
Anyways, | wasn't really talking. | don't like talking much, anyways. Lulu managed to break
away from the conversation. Chloe and Mia were still going strong arguing about
something.

“Why did you break up with Jules?" asked Lulu. She sounded serious.

"| didn't, not really, | guess. She legit just started complaining to my face, so | got a little
annoyed and told her she was always complaining to my face and whatever."

"Did you at least call her to say sorry?"

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT ГА

JRE

| shook my head.
“Bruh. You have to call her,” she said. “Call her and say you're sorry and that you're stupid.”
“Why do you care anyways?” | asked.

She paused. "Just because you're not a likeable person, so | want to make sure you don't end
up sad and lonely,” she admitted.

| laughed.
“What are you two talking about?” asked Mia.

We told her it was nothing. Chloe stood behind her and looked at me like | had done
something suspicious.

It was kind of warm that day, so there were quite a few people at the beach. So we all sat
down and watched the windsurfers. | think the wind was too strong because one guy got
pushed like fifty meters away. So we were talking about surfing, and Chloe was lecturing us
on why we should save the turtles. | felt something really cold on my head, my first guess
was bird shit, but it was heavier. Then Mia gasped, ice cream started to drip all over my face.
Lulu and Chloe started to laugh. | looked up at them. They were the culprits. | started
running after them into the water; it was pretty cold. Mia chased after me to slow me down.
Chloe was pretty fast, so | couldn't get her. | got Lulu though. | head-butted her in the
stomach, so ice cream went all over her top.

After we had our little ice cream fight, all of our clothes got pretty dirty, so Mei made us wash
the ice cream off in the water. We got super cold, so Mei made us all wrap around in
blankets. Lulu said that the car made us look like "little hitchhiking hippies from the sixties".
We were all sitting in the car while Mei blasted her old music. We all fell asleep pretty soon
because the music was getting really slow. | realized that | actually had an ok time. It made
me wonder if | could do that every weekend.

| got home at around fou,r and | said goodbye to everyone and whatever. Mom was waiting
for me in the kitchen and asked me if | was hungry. | said no and went upstairs to think. |
found a warm spot out on our balcony and lay there. | thought about being friends with Mia,
Lulu and Chloe forever. You know, like friends in the movies. It's not like | didn't like my
friends, | don't know. | guess | was just being pretty dumb, but it was a nice thought.

| haven't written in a while. | did something really really really really stupid. | did a bad thing,
like a really bad thing. It wasn't all my fault, it really wasn't, but some people don't
understand things. They want things to be all complicated but really, they're quite simple.
That's what makes everything so complicated. | didn't really mean to say all those things that
| said, but then I said them, and you cant just vacuum up words that have already been said,
So everything is just a bit messy right now.

So after that day at the beach with Lulu, Chloe and Mia, we sort of became friends. So what I
would do is split break times, fifteen minutes with Lulu and fifteen minutes with Jules. | felt
like two different people, like | didn't know. Maybe | liked myself better when | was with Lulu
and her friends. Does that make sense? Like | was actually two completely different people.

Anyways, | think Jules must have noticed | was spending time with them. | didn't think she
would care though. We made up. | mean I'm her "boyfriend" now. We both like each other, |
guess. l've been a lot less honest to her, but this is a good thing because otherwise, | end up
hurting her "feelings" or whatever. But things started to get a bit weird. | started to think
about Lulu a lot, like all the time. My mind would say, "Oh Lulu would like this" or "Lulu loves
this song" or "I can't wait to tell Lulu about this" or "I think I’m in love with her."

72 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

НА A |

So Lulu and | were becoming really good friends. Like, she came to my house all the time
and we had inside jokes and everything. Things were going really well; | was actually really
happy. Then | would spend time with Jules, and even though it was kind of boring, it would
be ok because I could think about Lulu. This was when the first confusing thing happened.

So Lulu and | were at my house. We had the whole house to ourselves because everybody
was gone. Werre sitting together, just talking about nothing. But that's when I realized that I
was probably in love with her. So | decided that the next day | was going to go to Jules and
break up with her.

When Lulu left, | told Luke about my plan.

He replied, "What the fuck are you talking about,”

"| just told you."

Silence.

"You've lost your fucking mind, you do realize that right?"
"Whatever Luke, that's what l'm going to do tomorrow, ok?"

So | went down to Jules' house and whatever. It seemed like she already knew | was coming
though, because she opened the door before | knocked.

"East, | need to tell you something really important," she said.

We went up to her room, and she closed the door behind her. Honestly, | didn't really know
what to expect.

"East, | know you've been hanging out with Lulu. No, don't say anything, it's ok. | just want
you to know that she has some problems. Like she's actually obsessed with you. She tried to
drown herself just so you could save her. | caught her staring at you in class one time. She
also writes about you all the time in her stupid diary or whatever."

| was silent for a while. | guess it made sense at the time, or maybe it was just because | kind
of wanted to believe it because it would make things easier. Anyways, that's sort of how it all
started.

| stopped talking to Mia, Chloe and Lulu. | didn't even look at them and whenever any of
them tried to talk to me, | would ignore them or say, "Yoh, just shut up." Soon they gave up
on talking to me, | thought everything would go back to normal, but it didn't. | mean, we
would make fun of them a lot more than usual. Luke even once called her an obsessive
creep and it made her cry. | realized that | was still in love with her, even if | was "bullying"
her. | kind of had to. Sometimes you just have to do things.

It's not like she was the only one suffering. | also hated it. | knew that she probably didn't do
all of those creepy things but the truth is, | needed my friends, and Jules making up that
rumour just proved that she cared. Does that make sense? | guess the truth is that | couldn't
be friends with Lulu and them. They just wouldn't get me as much as my friends do, and
they're weird. But | couldn't stop liking her as much as! did.

Maybe I liked it better when she was sad. | mean, after a week, she didn’t care at all. She
laughed with her friends and didn't even look at me. It was almost like she didn't care about
me at all. | was starting to feel really shitty, | know | said | would stop swearing, but it's just so
hard. | went home and immediately went upstairs. | shut the door and ran to the shower.
Then I sort of just turned the shower on and sat in the shower. | was still wearing my school
clothes and everything, but | needed to cool down. | sort of just sat there for a while.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 73

Sithethile Sgwentu

| don't really remember what happened next. My mom says that she found me fully clothed
in the shower yelling "I had to,” like a crazy person. She said when she tried to get me out, |
kicked her really hard. My Mom said that she didn't know what to do, so she called the
school counsellor. They calmed me down or whatever. They made me sound like one of
those kids with special needs or whatever, but I’m not one of those kids. lm normal.

That's why | was sitting in Ms Zilon's (the counsellor) office. She asked me to sit down and so |
did. It was a nice office and all, but | didn't need to be there.

"So, how are you feeling James?" she asked.

There was silence as she got her notepad out. It was like she was analysing me.

“Hungry,” | replied.

She chuckled.

"So as you know, you had a nervous breakdown. Do you know what might have caused it?"
Silence.

"Aren't you the fucking, psychologist or whatever?" | asked.

She just stared for a second, then she acted calm. That pissed me off, so | got a cigarette out
of my pocket and lit it.

| got suspended for a whole month. | didn't really care anymore. Everything was still the
same, Jules sent me school work, and I still went out on the weekends. | wasn't "allowed" to,
but | snuck out anyways. The usual teenage rebellion.

People always say that when you're feeling sad, you try to search for a distraction and that's a
bad thing. But everybody does it, even if it's not drugs or whatever, we all have distractions.
Maybe that's why people have kids. Maybe Lulu's distraction is school; that's why she's so
good at class. Maybe Jules' distraction is looking good. That's why she cares about clothes
and all that shit. Luke's distraction is his friends. That's why he tries to control everybody.

| also have a distraction, it's a bit weird, | guess. Sometimes when I'm feeling down, | go to
the beach and sit on the bench. I kind of like the beach now. | have a love-hate relationship
with the beach, if that makes sense. When I'm lucky, I'll see Lulu walking on the shore. |
never go up to her. | just leave her there on the shore. | don't have anything to say to her. Not
anymore. Maybe it seems pretty weird to just watch her, but | can't go up and talk to her.

Sometimes you just can't do things.

74 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

Г IER MM cm

Senzelokuhle Mpumelelo Nkabini is from a small town called Estcourt, located in
the midlands of the KwaZulu-Natal province in South Africa. He has a masters from

the University of KwaZulu-Natal and his work focuses on rurality, gender, sexuality
and culture.

Alex and the Blesser

It's cold today in eMajokweni, a srnall village located in the outskirts of Durban. | can feel the
frosty air piercing through my nose as | contemplate whether to leave this cosy bed or have
my skinny body battered and numbed by this ruthless unsympathetic day.

| eventually gather up the courage and jolt out of bed to warm my bathwater and make
something to eat. | placed the wood in the shed yesterday so that it wouldn't get wet from
the melting frost and dampness caused by the fog. | eventually went to our worn-down hut,
made a fire, and took a bath in front of the blazing flames. | also placed my half-full tub of
Vaseline closer to the flames so that it slowly melts from the hard brick condition it was in. |
left my clothes in my small zinc shack so that they wouldn't be engulfed by the smoke.

After ten minutes, | am already buttered up in Vaseline, slowly moving my R8.50 Sadie roll-
on under my arms and getting dressed. As | exit my room, the sun is already shining its
bright rays across the icy grass, but that offers little comfort because the cold air is still
pricking my skin like a thousand sharp needles. Maybe it will get better once | am in the taxi.

After being crammed in a stuffy taxi for a whole hour, | finally get off at Smith Street in
Durban. It's busy as usual and the place | am heading to I'm sure it's full. However, | will be
able to enter because | am the doctor's "special person". | enter Dr Mbele's practice and
Mbali, the receptionist, is sitting idle with nothing to do. | look across the patients’ waiting
area and it's empty; that's unusual. Where were all the Durbanites who are always seeking
Sick notes and extensions for their sick days? This was indeed odd. | greet Mbali. She
responds with a fake smile. She definitely does not like me. | don't know why because | am
always nice to her, but her boss adores rne, so she has to toe the line.

"Is Dr Mbele available?" | ask Mbali with a big smile on my face. | know she hates that.
She responds with a cold “Yes!” while looking down, pretending to be reading something.

| head down the hallway to his consultation room. | suddenly stop. | need to spray some EMA
on те; | can't just walk in there smelling musty. As soon as | enter the consultation room, the
stench from the bleach and sterilisation chemicals abrasively penetrates my nostrils. The
door is open, but | decide to knock anyway. A smooth dark brown face looks at me and a
picture-perfect smile beams from this beautiful structure.

"How are you baby?" A question | have been waiting to be asked. | blush a little, then | take
my eyes off the floor, and my big Bugs-Bunny teeth are revealed through my brown lips. I
have a hard time looking at Sphe. I still can't believe we are even dating, me dating a whole
doctor, definitely a fairy-tale in the making. | walk over to him, sit on his lap and give him a
soft kiss on the lips. He looks directly into my eyes and leans forward to kiss me. At this
moment, we are definitely in our own private Idaho.

After the kissing session, we converse about how his day was, even though it has not ended,
but with the lack of patients coming in today, he hasn't had much to do. Of course, he
doesn't ask how my day is going. | am currently unemployed, and the only way | was able to
get here is the R800 that he had given me on the day we decided to consummate our
relationship at Blue Waters Hotel.

Since it's a slow day, we decide to go have lunch at Circus-Circus near the beachfront. Mbali
is instructed to lock up, while Sphe and | drive off to the beachside. We eat, chat and laugh. |
have gotten used to ordering from restaurant menus, but I still struggle with the cutlery and
how to pronounce the words.

76 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

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In the midst of our conversation, Sphe gets a call on his cell phone. He responds with one-
word answers and then ends the call. He looks at me and asks me how I feel about spending
the night at his house. I don't know what to say. He pays for the meal and the drinks. | hear a
stern yet soft "Let's go”. | grab my phone and we head off to the parking area.

We drive up to a silver gate on La Lucia Avenue. It automatically opens once the car enters
the driveway and three palm trees stand tall in the middle of the yard. There is a medium-
sized house next to the car garages and a double-storey at the back. | am shocked at the
beauty and elegance that | am looking at. | am surprised that Sphe has never brought me
here. He lives alone for heaven sakes; I’m sure he gets bored being all alone in this big house.

While I'm still amazed by the beauty around me, Sphe parks the car in the garage and
invites me inside the small house. White floor tiles, baby blue paint on the walls and dark
brown furniture in the kitchen and lounge. | involuntarily give myself a house tour while the
owner is getting himself something to drink. | walk into a bedroom that has an ironed
cleaner's uniform laid on the bed and pumps neatly placed underneath the bed. | walk to
the next room, and the bathroom has women's underwear dangling on the window, a pink
facecloth on the shower rail, and lilac towels hanging over the bathtub. I leave the bathroom
and head back to Sphe.

“When are we going to the big house?" | ask him as | sit down looking at the half-full glass of
water on the table. He hesitates to answer and just focuses on watching television. He
doesn't look comfortable.

| ask him another question. "Whose uniform is that in the bedroom?"

He looks at me, smiles and says, "It's going to be yours tonight."

| try to place my head on his chest, but he immediately gets startled. He stands up quickly
and walks over to the curtain. A car stops right next to the window. He looks at me with a

|”

stunned expression all over his face, and whispers "Go and hide in the garage!

| jolt to the kitchen and open the door that leads into the garage. | see Sphe's car and then
another one that looks like a Jeep Wrangler. | first stand behind the door, hoping that if
anyone opens it, they won't see me hiding on the other side. | quickly move away from the
door and hide next to the car parked against the wall.

| hear voices coming from the car that suddenly parked near the window. It sounds like a
woman instructing her kids to take groceries out from the boot. | hear footsteps entering the
lounge and then in the kitchen. | am still baffled as to why | was asked to hide in the garage
and who this woman and these children making a noise are.

| hear Sphe speaking to this woman; he's laughing and asking what this woman is looking
for. She seems to be going through the house searching for something. The door in the
kitchen leading to the garage opens.

| hear Sphe laughing and asking, "My love, what are you looking for?"
It seems the woman is now also in the garage, she opens the two garage doors, and the
brightness of the sun shines through. | remain silent while listening to the woman's

footsteps. She leaves the garage for a few minutes, and | get to change my position from
squatting to lying on my stomach on the cold floor.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT T1

URE

С „ре m al ^ ушн ра | ^ Mill. zn
Senzelokuhle Мкарт!

When the woman returns, she is accompanied by another person wearing black pumps,
similar to the ones | saw in the bedroom. Then, three short, burly looking figures appear next
to the two human beings standing near the car garage. The woman has unchained the pit
bulls. | urinate. The liquid involuntarily flowing down my thighs warms me for a few seconds,
and then | become even colder than before. | see Sphe's shoes exiting the kitchen door, he
calls out to the dogs, and a few seconds later they follow him. A sigh of relief.

| have been lying on my stomach on this freezing floor for three hours now, while Sphe is
laughing and chatting with the people who interrupted us. The garage doors are still open,
and the cold evening air is now lashing my body. | am hungry, thirsty and wet. | have
accepted the fact that | might spend the whole night on this floor. | am even more worried
about my grandmother. She must be worried sick by now, especially since | left my phone
оп the table. | guess | will have to buy another one if | leave this place alive.

While lost in my thoughts, | notice that the room is now quiet and the kitchen door opens. |
see Sphe's shoes, then a whistle erupts. | get up and he signals for me to get into the car. I
move slowly because my body is numb from lying on this cold floor. | get into the back seat
and lie down. The warmth from the car offers some comfort. He reverses the car out of the
garage and stops. Someone opens the front door on the passenger side and gets in.

"Hi, what's your name?" a cute face with big eyes gazes at me for an answer. He looks five or
SIX.

"Alex... my name is Alex."

| look away and another question erupts from this small round face that's eagerly observing
me. "Do you like popcorn Alex? We are going to buy popcorn". | ignore him.

His father saves me from this interrogation with just three words, "Stop bothering Alex”.

The gate opens, the car exits, and | get driven back to Durban. Sphe buys something at KFC
and withdraws some money from the ATM next to the restaurant. We stop at Bayside Hotel. |
get handed the money and the KFC. | open the car door, get out, close it, and never look
back. | enter the hotel and proceed to check in. After paying, | walk up to my room and
proceed to unlock the door. The room is moderately clean; there must be a shortage of
cleaners. Before | leave tomorrow | will have to ask the receptionist if there are any job
openings at the hotel for male cleaners.

78 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

Thenjiwe Nxumalo-Parsley is a recent matriculant from Cedar House School in
Kenilworth, Cape Town. In her time at Cedar House, she was an active member and
student leader of the Diversity Discourse and Social Justice Committee. She is a
talented creative who uses art, design, garment construction, and writing to
highlight self-expression and a commitment to inclusivity in the creative field. She
works as a DJ, a platform she uses to create empowering and safe spaces for black,
indigenous, and people of colour (BIPOC) femmes.

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Bone Child

While the rest of the Grade 3B class sat in monotonous rows watching Mrs Lewis scrape
down numbers and equations on the chalkboard, Thenjiwe was outside the campus waiting
for her mother to pick her up. No, she was not bunking school. Instead, she had a rather
crucial errand to attend to. Standing by the school gates, in her powder blue pinafore school
dress, which she continually pulled down her hips because it did not fit right, she felt special.
There is a sense of superiority that comes with being the only one exempt from school early.

“| have a severe allergy to fractions and multiplication," she boasted to her deskmates when
they queried why she was packing up in the middle of Mathematics.

This was possibly a slight fabrication, but the truth is that she did not know how to explain
her situation to her peers. It was none of their business anyway. Nonetheless, the level of
interest exhibited by her peers did enhance her feeling of specialness.

Swiftly, she strode out of the classroom and waited patiently by the gate next to the sand-
bedded playground for her mother to arrive. She recalls the first day of term: during break, a
prefect told her she was too big to be playing on the Grade 3 playground and referred her to
the Grade 6 play area. How bizarre!

Luckily she did not have to remain reminiscing for too long because a dark blue Audi station
wagon pulled up in front of the school gates. She climbed into the front seat, and her
mother greeted her with a big smile, "You ready, my darling?" Thenjiwe nodded in response.

Before they reached the hospital, her mother applied a special plaster to her arm. An off-
white square-like shape with the text Em/a Patch wrapped around the front. She did not
know what this did exactly, but her mother always assured her that it would make the
injections less painful. With her patch on her upper arm, she felt that it made her look like a
superhero she had seen on Cartoon Network - a television channel her mother had only
recently allowed - a privilege that came with being nine years old, apparently.

They travelled up the vinyl staircase to a room with a slide-in label: Radiography Room. In
the sovereign state of her imagination, she pictured a group of crazy scientists huddled
together over a radiating green light, with sparks and lasers shooting out of their new
invention. However, when her mother knocked on the door, it was not a crazy boffin with
cinched hair who opened it. Instead, a wornan in a pair of scrubs, similar in colour to her
school uniform, warmly smiled at them. She looked familiar from the last time, but Thenjiwe
was embarrassed to note that she had forgotten the woman's name. In her defence, they
had not visited this side of the hospital in a while. They were invited into the mystery doctor-
lady's office.

They were seated in two identical chairs facing the doctors desk. While her mother
consulted the mystery lady and signed a green form, she sat investigating the pictures and
posters on the walls. There were many diagrams of bones, which seemed standard, but she
was shocked to see images of laser machines. Maybe this is a crazy science lab after all!

"Today's scan will only be a short reading of the bone growth in her hands and then the
usual shot. We will not need to do much because her growth rate is successfully declining.
Your daughter should be on track with her agemates in a year." The doctor received the

form back from her mother.

"That is great to hear." Thenjiwe's mother looked down at her and smiled.

80 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

ee 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

Although she could not fully grasp the gist of what was said, she could not help but feel that
they were patronising her. Was there something wrong with her? Maybe she, like
Spiderman, had been infected by a radioactive insect that gave her abnormal abilities. She
had asked her mother about this before, after visits such as this one.

She recalls her mother's response, “You are just growing too fast, my baby. | want you to be a
little girl for a while longer, that is why we are here."

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 81

Sandile Ngubane

Sandile lives in Mayville, in a shanty township called Cato Crest in KwaZulu-Natal,
South Africa. He writes short stories and poetry and intends to use his fertile
imagination to pen novels and movie scripts in the near future. In his spare time he
goes jogging, reads, and writes. He was featured in the 2019 short story anthology
titled Beyond The Pen.

He obtained a higher certificate in Scriptwriting at Creative Arts College. He has an
insatiable appetite for reading and writing and believes writing is his therapy and
incantation. The artwork featured with this story is by 27-year-old artist Nkosi Chili,
who is also from Mayville, Durban.

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Our Ride or Die

Five years into the new democracy, Cato Manor - affectionately known as Umkhumbane -
still bore remnants of apartheid: a cluster of ramshackle shacks devoid of proper sanitation,
running water and electricity. Some of the courageous inhabitants resorted to illegally
connecting to the electric current from the streetlights. Too often, there were fatal
consequences for that level of bravery.

Despite a lack of amenities, children always find ways to create a pastime. Like fluttering
moths to a little flame, we were inevitably drawn to one object: a red chainless bicycle.

Often, a throng of us would take turns mounting the bicycle from the peak of the steep road
and descend downwards. Most of the time, we were turning a deaf ear to our mothers'
reminders to do house chores and run errands. Darkness was our worst enemy since it
always curtailed our fun just when it had reached its climax. We would then reluctantly go to
our respective homes where harsh questions or, for some, a spank awaited us. No one would
wear shoes. To some, it was a matter of choice; to others, it was inevitable. Our feet were
slowly adapting to stepping on stones, glass shards, and thorns without a yelp. But in our
hearts, we knew there was one fatal thing our bodies would never adapt to: bare electric
wires snaking under the scantily dug out ground.

One night, | came home dragging along my usual companion, the red bicycle. АП along the
journey, a fat moon had been hanging over my head, as if it was going to explode on top of
me. About a year ago, my Mom had arrived with the bicycle from her domestic work in
Westville. It was in decent shape, except that the chain was missing.

My Mom loved me dearly. She went out of her way to show me that | meant a lot to her. She
had once told me a harrowing story about my brother. His name was Mbongeni and he
passed away when | was still a toddler. According to her, he had been roughly around my
age - апа | was his spitting image.

On the eve of his passing, a Saturday afternoon, it was scorching hot. Mbongeni had entered
the house and sidled along the wall. Morn said it was a tell-tale sign that he wanted to ask
her for something.

"Can | go to swim in the river with my friends, Mom?” he had said, eyes staring down and
slightly gnawing at his forefinger.

“Hell, no! You will drown in the river. Can’t you see that I’m a pauper? | barely have a funeral
cover?” Mom had said, not mincing her words.”

"| won't drown. | know how to swim, Mom,” Mbongeni had been on the verge of tears.

“Now you are starting to be a pain in the arse. Go! Make sure you come back before the sun
goes down. Or else | will give you a spank.”

Swimming in the river was not the only thing that Mbongeni and his friends did. They also
dipped sacks into the river to catch catfish. If swimming became boring, they resorted to
surfing, using white polystyrene packaging as surfboards.

Mom had told me that the twinkle in Mbongeni's eyes and the Cheshire cat smile on his face

when she gave him permission to swim in the river left an indelible mark on her heart and
will be forever ingrained in her mind.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 83

ISSUE 05
JAN 2022

4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

When the sun began to kiss the mountains, painting them reddish-orange, two boys with
puffy faces and bare chests had hurtled into the house and began to cry.

“He is dead! He was electrocuted by bare electric wires on the river bank!” one of the boys
had blurted out.

“Who?” Mom had asked. Her heart was thumping, and she was gasping for air.

"Mbo... Mbongeni..."

Mom had wailed in agony. The neighbours were alarmed. In a fleeting instant, they had
flocked into the house.

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When Mom answered the knock, | was suddenly bathed with paraffin lamp light that issued
from our wooden house. And when she laid her eyes on me, she was incensed at what she

Saw.

“You look like a pig that has been shovelling mud!”

| quailed and examined my clothes as if seeing them for the first time. Grease was all over
my t-shirt like a bad rash.

“Have you bought enough soap to wash those clothes, Bongani?”

“No, Mom,” | muttered.

She stood ponderously on the doorway with fists rested on her hips, which gave me a
momentary reprieve. After a scathing stare, she flounced off into the kitchen. | timidly
dragged the bicycle along into the house and parked it underneath my squeaky bed.

She poured water in the kettle and laid it on the flame of a paraffin stove. In a short while,
water was boiling. | sloshed it into an enamel dish and took it outside for a bath where |
wouldn't have the inconvenience of mopping a wet floor.

After the warm bath, | changed into pyjamas. A warm, scrumptious meal of pap and chicken
feet awaited me. Meanwhile, Mom was busy ironing my school clothes.

To say Mom had done a fantastic job on raising me as a single parent was an
understatement. My father had a proclivity for booze and shuffling cards. As fate would have
it, he later died of liver disease. He did temporary plumbing jobs, but would sometimes lose
all his wages on card gambling. And the onus to put food on the table was on Mom.

When | had finished eating and was ready to sleep, she scolded me for my earlier porcine
behaviour and pinched my ears for all the trouble. That night, my sleep was uncomfortable.
My ears were throbbing with pain.

7
M

When I returned from school the next day, | was as disciplined as a marine corp. Earlier in the
morning, Mom had drummed it into my ears that if | ever rode the bicycle again, she would
beat me into a pulp and feed me to vultures.

My close pal, Ntokozo, showed up while | was busy hanging a school shirt on a makeshift
clothesline, a rope tied from the eaves to a nearby guava tree.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

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He made several attempts to convince me to return to our "ride or die" without success.
After a while, three of our partners in crime materialised. Likewise, their attempts were in
vain. Realising | would not budge, they left with their heads dropped. Ntokozo also had
thrown in the towel. We watched cartoons on a blurry black and white television until Mom
came һогпе from work.

My self-imposed hiatus lasted a monotonous five days. On the sixth day, | was back in the
thick of things, and my partners in crime were enamoured. Through my abstinence from the
game, | had earned all sorts of monikers: "mama's boy" and "sissy boy" were some that came
to my attention.

Ntokozo and | sat on the pavement, waiting for our turn to ride the bicycle. We were eating
vetkoeks and ice lollies and laughing our lungs out at Msizi and Sabelo's argument taking
place on the opposite pavement.

Out of the blue, Mandisa, a beautiful girl who was Ntokozo's neighbour, materialised. She
had caramel skin and sported neatly plaited hair. Her home was one of the select few built
with painted corrugated iron and deemed to be classy.

Ntokozo nudged me with an elbow and, when he received my undivided attention, he
pointed at her with an index finger, a smirk pervading his face. She was now at the tuck shop
counter, a loaf of bread clutched in her hands. He knew all too well that | had a crush on
Mandisa but lacked the bravery to tell her. At the age of eight, who could blame me for my
cowardice?

When she took another path back home, | was the most relieved human being on the
planet.

Xina plodded towards us, hands taut on the handlebars, pushing the bicycle up the steep
road. | heard Msizi saying to Sabelo, “I’m going to tell Xina what you once said about her." Не
had evidently come short off their tit-for-tat. It was a tell-tale moment.

Upon reaching the top of the road, she heaved a huge sigh of relief. Descending the road
was our favourite part; returning back was an onerous task. One had to negotiate the steep
road while pushing the chainless bike and dealing with aching shoulders and calf muscles
for all the trouble.

"Sabelo said you look like a gorilla," Msizi blurted out to Xina. Ntokozo and | chuckled. Her
real name was Zanele, but she went by Xina because of her lithe and supple body. She could
do all kinds of somersaults and was, apparently, a good fighter as well. She was named after
a Chinese lady who starred in a movie series which was all the rage at the time.

“He said | look like what?" Xina asked impassively. To me, it felt threatening.

Supposedly, Sabelo thought Xina had sharp pointed ears and a skin that was as dark as soot.
Whether that was equivalent to resembling a gorilla, it was only Sabelo who seemed to
know.

“Is what he is saying true, Sabelo?" She was crouched such that her gaze was level with
Sabelo's who was still sitting on the pavement. Meanwhile, Msizi, the match to the pending

inferno, looked enthused at the prospect of a fight.

Sabelo remained taciturn as if what was happening didn't ruffle his feathers in the least.
Ntokozo and 1, huddled on the pavement, feared the worst.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 85

ISSUE 05
JAN 2022

THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

"Can't you hear that I’m talking to you?" she said tetchily. Xina pushed Sabelo's forehead
with her index finger, and his head tilted backwards. That was the straw that broke the
camel’s back. Sabelo stood up abruptly, his neck muscles taut like a drawn bowstring. His
breathing was heavy and rugged. We watched with keen interest, anticipating what was
about to unfold.

“You want to fight?” Xina rolled her dress inside the elastic that lined her panties. She then
pushed Sabelo with such force that he staggered but managed to regain his balance just in
time. He came charging like an enraged bull, but she swooped on him before he could lay
the first blow. Xina tripped him and, in an instant, was on top of him. By that time, a horde of
charismatic children had swamped the fighting arena. We were chanting in unison, “Pero!
Pero! Pero!"

Xina's butt was parked on top of Sabelo's chest. She used her knees to press his spread-
eagled arms against the ground.

"Do you still want to fight?" She gave him a few slaps against his cheeks, which drew peals of
laughter from the audience. When Sabelo shook his head, it was clear he wanted nothing to
do with the fight anymore.

|
ДҮ

If ever we had a presentiment on how the following day was going to pan out, we wouldn't
have dared to mount our "ride or die".

PELLE

The day started in high spirits. The mood and the competitive edge of the game was on
another level. The only noticeable absentee was Sabelo, which became a subject of jokes
that he was scared of having round two with Xina. We also fooled Msizi into believing that
Xina was lurking somewhere for an ambush. We could sense that he was starting to shake in
his boots.

The day continued in that fashion, filled with banter and laughter. We flaunted our different
riding styles, and | trumped all of them, followed closely by Ntokozo.

A light drizzle pinged against the road and our sweaty bodies. When | looked up at the sky,
there were ominous signs. A dark blanket of clouds hung menacingly over us.

"Unfortunately, we've reached the end of the day, guys,” | said.
"But | was supposed to be the last one to ride," Sabelo said pleadingly.

“You'll be the one who's going to ride first tomorrow. It is raining now,” | tried to reason with
him. He looked morose. Whether that was a ruse to break my defences, | didn't know.

"Please be quick. | don't want heavy rain to arrive while I'm still here,” | said to Sabelo after a
pause. | handed the bicycle over to him, oblivious to the fact that | would live to regret that
decision for the rest of my life.

Ш
1111

А thunderclap erupted апа a bolt of lightning сгіѕѕсгоѕѕеа the sky. A knot of fear coiled in
the pit of my stomach. АП of a sudden, half of the houses in our area were pitch dark.

"Where is Sabelo?" | asked in alarm. The three of us exchanged worried looks. | trotted
downwards, my two partners in crime tailed behind me.

As | approached, | was confronted by the deserted bicycle, which sent shivers down my
spine. | stopped in my tracks, my eyes scouring the area.

86 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

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"Where's Sabelo?" Xina breathed down my neck. | shrugged. When a bolt of lightning
flashed again, | thought | had glimpsed something in the bushes. | went to the thicket that
flanked the road and scanned the area. | was shocked at what | saw. | emitted an earth-
shattering wail. Xina and Ntokozo came rushing to me. They also couldn't hold back their
tears.

Sabelo's body lay grotesquely amidst the thicket. My first guess was that he had been hit by
lightning, but when | saw bare electric wires, it dawned on me that he fell off the bike and
was electrocuted. He was neither the first nor the last child to experience that cruel death.

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Two decades passed swiftly, as if one was immersed іп a dream, only to find that, when it
had worn off, such a long time had elapsed.

There is a lot of transformation in Cato Manor, including improved infrastructure, but also
escalating levels of crime. The number of shacks and illegal electricity connections has
skyrocketed.

|, Bongani Gumede, have also experienced much change in my life. | have a Bachelor of
Science in Medicine from my alma mater, Nelson Mandela School of Medicine at the
University of KwaZulu-Natal. | decided to open my own surgery two years ago, and it has
been rendering services to my community ever since. With the help of my childhood friends,
Xina and Ntokozo, | have formed a bike riding club in our area. We teach children from the
age of eight up to nineteen to ride bicycles. A sixteen-year-old girl in our club is a 20km
champion. And a nineteen-year-old boy was a runner-up in a 42km competition that was
held in Cape Town.

| am also happily married to my lovely childhood sweetheart, Mandisa Khumalo, ап
optometrist practising in the same surgery with me. We are blessed with a three-year-old
baby girl, Amahle. She is both our blessing and bundle of joy.

The sport of bike riding seems to be running through my veins because I’ve joined a riding
club and | partake in competitions whenever | get time.

Right now, I’m weaving through traffic on our residential road. It seems one of the forever
troublesome sewerage drains has spilt over the road, causing monumental congestion. As |
pass by a supermarket, | see one of the elderly women who is known as a gossiper in our
area. She waves a hand. | obediently wave back. | pedal for another block under the baking
sun. When | reach a garage, | park my bicycle and ask a petrol attendant to look after it. | give
him a twenty rand tip and | head inside the store. | fish out one of my favourite cool drinks
from the fridge and trudge to the till queue.

As | emerge from the shop, | bump into one of my former classmates who is infamously
known for housebreaking and pickpocketing. He has a slew of gash marks on his face and
head. Word doing the rounds was that he was recently out of prison. He asks for two rand; |
give him five instead. He smiles from ear to ear and gives me a high five.

| pedal down the road while sipping my cool drink. When | reach the traffic light, | see a hale
and hearty old man known in our area as a no-nonsense usurer. He shouts my name, and I
make a salutation gesture.

My ultimate destination is my friend's home. It's the most significant day of his life, his
birthday. A bouquet of roses was tied in between my handlebars and | have it in my hand.
Albeit my birthday was a few months away, we were born in the same year. He is now
twenty-eight years old.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 8/

JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

| reach a forked road and hook a left turn. | swill the last dregs of cool drink and throw the
container in the receptacle. A municipal bus whooshes past me, generating a cool breeze
that evaporates beads of sweat.

| reach a recreational park with trees aplenty planted haphazardly. | weave through them up
until | reach a gate staffed by a dozing security guard. | clear my throat, and he is snapped
out of his dreamland. When he recognises me, he flashes a Cheshire cat smile. We've known
each other for the past ten years since | started to frequent this place.

He opens the gate. | alight from my bike and leave it under his watchful eye. | walk through
the gate and pass by a row of graves. | go to one particular grave, kneel by it, and | recite a
silent prayer. | remove some of the weeds with struggling fingers and then lay down the
flowers | have brought with me.

My best friend since the loss of Sabelo had been Ntokozo. He too was lost ten years ago in an
accident involving his bicycle and a car. Whenever | come to his grave, it evokes such
feelings for which words continue to elude me. Where Sabelo's grave is, | know not, for his
body was taken away by the state for an autopsy, but his family never did get him back for
burial.

| always pay him homage whenever it is his birth or death day.

Rest in eternal peace, my bosom friends.

88 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

Nkosi Chili

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Mandisa Shandu RIS

Mandisa is born and bred in Richard's Bay in the KwaZulu-Natal province of South
Africa. She is a student studying Psychology and Social Development at the
University of Cape Town (UCT). /solation the feminine body displayed on the
opposite page took the prize for Visual Art at the 2021 UCT Res4Res competition.

Mandisa realised that she could draw from an early age in an arts and culture class.

She fell in love with art because she could express herself through drawing and
painting. Mandisa believes that art is a powerful language that can be understood
by all asit can be translated and interpreted by anyone who encounters it.

Find Mandisa on Instagram.

Isolation, the feminine body

Winning visual arts piece by Mandisa Shandu at UCT Res4Res 2021.

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Enoima Edem Okon is an avid writer and a poet. She writes from Abuja, Nigeria
and is a graduate of the University of Abuja. Her poems The Seventeenth
Jeremiah, Hallelujah of Passion, and What if We Fell in Love at the Wrong Time
as well as her short story Troubled Blood have been featured in The Ducor
Review. Her poem Shadows was published by the Society of Young Nigerian
Writers in 2020 in Achebe: A Man of the People, a poetry and essay anthology.

ISSUE 05
JAN 2022

4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

An Introduction to the Play Vashti

History will be kind to me for | intend to write it - Winston Churchill

History is told by the victors or at least by those who get a platform, and these are generally
men with an agenda. With relatively few ancient women writers known and under as serious
study as the vast majority of religious, philosophical and (allegedly) historical texts, it is no
wonder women still face sexism and paternalist justifications. We have precious few reports
we can be sure were written by women about women and life in general.

It is high time for herstory to be told. Vashti is a feminist play that adapts a highly disputed
biblical story presenting the titular Persian Queen as disloyal and rejected by her husband
Ahasuerus, the King of Persia. Along with the exaggerated and suspicious details of the
original story, Vashti is labelled prideful, stripped of her crown, and replaced by a younger
woman. The latter is chosen for no other reason than her youth, beauty and virginity,
characteristic of the patriarchal obsession with controlling women's bodies and minds.

The demand for passive obedience and the instability of patriarchal rule is revealed in the
particular male anxiety that immediately comes to the fore. Vashti's decision not to appear
before her unreasonable and drunk husband will lead other wornen to rebel against their
husbands - across the entire kingdom - likely because they had many valid reasons to do so.
This is very telling regarding the deep-seated fears of the patriarchy. If male domination is
natural, necessary and somehow God's ‘will’, then why is it so unstable and insecure?

This exaggerated reaction to Vashti's behaviour suggests the precarious position of male
dominance and its illogical nature. The story is unlikely to provide very much truth or clarity
about the true situation at the Persian court. It was written based on the 'prejudices and
predilections' of the authors, its re-tellers and translators - ultimately patriarchal dread of
losing control over women and the need to reinforce oppression constantly through subtle
coercion (Carruthers, 1994: 22). It is a weapon crafted to degrade so-called 'pagan' women,
normalise and reinforce women's lower position, and exalt male authority.

Among many problems with the biblical story, there is no corroborating record of a Persian
Queen being divorced and replaced by one from another nation. Persian kings rarely married
outside a small number of families of the Persian nobility. It is also unclear who Ahasuerus
was. The play presents a rehabilitated view of Vashti. This Persian Queen, regardless of
whether she existed or not, has been deliberately obscured by the patriarchy of a later period
for selfish reasons. Although the play presented here claims no historical accuracy, it is no
less likely to have happened, and it presents a much more human and relatable story.

Despite the oppression and abuse of women and wives, even in the upper classes, as evident
in the original account, Vashti refuses to be a mere showpiece for her husband. She declines
a request to appear before the King as her only means to retain her dignity and for fear of his
making of fool of himself while he is drunk. She is divorced as a result, revealing the tyranny

of the patriarchal system.

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In a quest to appease the drunk King and for political reasons, his court advisors encourage
him to make a unilateral decision without consulting his wife. Vashti is found guilty without a
logical or fair explanation. She is forced from her home and torn from her family without a
thought for her value as a human being. The aim of such stories was to frighten women into
obedience - the biblical account makes that clear.

Few have thus far pleaded on Vashti's behalf, cared to consider the reasons for her actions, or
questioned the 'wisemen's' counsel. After 2 500 years, Vashti points to the terrible injustice
and damage done by such patriarchal stories.

We would like to highlight the particular lineage of this play. Although many readers will
identify the language as Shakespearean, the play is more closely related to and inspired by
John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi as well as Geoffrey Chaucer's The Wife of Bath. The
Duchess, likely based on the tragic true stories of Arbella Stuart and Catherine of Valois, is
preyed upon and murdered by her scheming brothers.

A many hungry guests have fed upon me [...]
Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength,
Must pull down heaven upon me:

Yet stay, heaven-gates are not so highly arch'd
As princes' palaces; they that enter there,

Must go upon their knees. Corme, violent death,
Serve for mandragora, to make me sleep:

Go, tell my brothers, when | am laid out,

They then may feed in quiet.

The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster (!М. 185, 258-265)

On the Wife of Bath, Mary Carruthers (1994: 22) explains: 'The fable of painting the lion [told
by the Wife] teaches that the truth of any picture often has more to do with the prejudices
and predilections of the painter than with the reality of the subject and that truthful art (and
morality) must take account of this complexly mutual relationship'.

The play is inspired by Webster and Chaucer and was prompted by similar injustice towards
women in Africa, particularly in Nigeria. A creative revisionist project such as Vashti is
dangerous as it can be associated with heresy and dissidence, risks Webster and Chaucer
themselves readily took. It is justified protest that is more urgent and necessary as feminists
strive to revolutionise society.

96 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

Who peyntede the leon, tel me who?

By God, if wommen hadde writen stories,

As clerkes han withinne hire oratories,

They wolde han writen of men moore wikkednesse
Than al the mark of Adam may redresse.

Who painted the lion, tell me who?

By God, if women had written stories,

As clerks have within their studies,

They would have written of men more wickedness
Than all the male sex could set right.

The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale from
The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer (ll. 692-696)

Bibliography and Further Reading
Barton, J. and Muddiman, J. 2007. The Oxford Bible Commentary. Oxford University Press.
Berlin, A. 2001. The Book of Esther and ancient storytelling. Journal of Biblical Literature, 120(1): 3-14.

Carruthers, M. 1994. "The Wife of Bath and the painting of lions." In Feminist Readings in Middle English Literature: The
Wife of Bath and АП Her Sect (pp. 22-53). Edited by Evans, R. and Johnson, L. Routledge.

Chaucer, C. 2010. The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale. An Interlinear Translation. Translated by Benson, L.D. Available at:
https://sites.fas.harvard.edu/-chaucer/teachslf/wbt-par.htm

Iroanusi, О. 2021. Nigeria: Again, gender equality bill suffers setback at Senate. AllAfrica, 15 December. Available at:
https://allafrica.com/stories/202112160021.html

Moore, C.A. 1975. Archaeology and the Book of Esther. The Biblical Archaeologist, 58(5-4): 62-79.

Petruzzello, M. et al. 2020. "Book of Esther". Encyclopaedia Britannica. Available at:
httos://www.britannica.com/topic/Book-of-Esther

Pohlig, V. 1999. Critical analysis: Reaffirming the male ambition in John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi. Available at:
http://wspanic75.tripod.com/analysis.html (accessed 25 May 2020).

Pugh, T. 2003. Queering genres, battering males: The Wife of Bath's narrative violence. Journal of Narrative Theory, 33(2):
115-142.

Roider, N.L. n.d. Arbella Stuart, Catherine of Valois, and The Duchess of Malfi: An examination of women, marriage, and
widowhood in Jacobean England. Available at: http://www.triviumpublishing.com/articles/duchessofmalfi.ntml#34

Steen, S.J. 1991. The crime of marriage: Arbella Stuart and The Duchess of Malfi. The Sixteenth Century Journal, 22(1): 61-
76.

Tsaurayi, K.M. 2019. Esther in Diaspora: Toward an Alternative Interpretive Framework. Brill.

Webster, J. 2021. The Duchess of Malfi: A New Edition for Students and the Theatre. Edited by Bowles-King, ВЈ. Asali
House. Available at: https//bit.ly/3puBEBi

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Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

Vashti: Ancient Beauty by Cara Helene

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Vashti

Synopsis

Queen Vashti of Persia is called to parade herself before a banquet of drunk nobles by King
Ahasuerus. She refuses, choosing her own dignity instead and fearing that Ahasuerus will
make a fool of himself. The King is influenced by his scheming advisor Memucan to divorce
her.

Memucan stresses that Vashti's example will lead more women to rebel. Eunuchs guarding
Vashti try to prevent the injustice and are held back by the nobles. The King is distressed after
he sobers up but is too proud to admit his mistake. Disorder and discontent follow at the
court, and Ahasuerus seeks a new advisor. Vashti has supporters but remains an outcast until
her untimely death.

Characters
TWO NARRATORS, one wornan and one man

VASHTI, Queen of Persia

AHASUERUS, King of Persia

MEMUCAN, the King's adviser

HUSSEIN and FARZAD, two of the King's Chamberlains attending at the court
CHAMBERLAINS, two additional Chamberlains attending at the court
NOBLES, princes, governors, ministers, and other upper-class men

SOLDIERS

ATTENDANTS serving at the court

GUARDS of the King

CYRA and IRSIA, wives of the nobles attending Vashti

NEDA, Irsia's daughter

LADIES, several additional wives of the nobles and young women attending Vashti
EUNUCHS guarding Vashti

HAMAN, one of the King's nobles

HEGE, keeper of the maidens

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Act | Scene |

The Persian throne room. King AHASUERUS is on his throne surrounded by NOBLES and
SOLDIERS. Classical music fills the cold roorn.

NARRATOR 1

For she was fair to look upon,

thus the King thought to show her off,

as did he the other beauties of his kingdom.

NARRATOR 2

Oh, in the third year of his reign,

King Ahasuerus had organized a banquet

for his nobles, ministers, governors and officials.
The exhibition lasted for six months.

NOBLE
Six months indeed! [Laughs and then toasts the audience.]

NARRATOR 2

During this time, he made sure to demonstrate
and brag about the wealth and splendours

of his kingdom, what he'd won and achieved

since the day he was installed as King.

On the grand finale week, he summoned everyone,
| mean everyone - important and unimportant

to Shushan, the kingdom's capital,

the seat of the palace to feast.

NARRATOR 1
All the Powers of Persia and Media were gathered,
men of timber and calibres.

NARRATOR 2

Shushan, the palace was arrayed in its highest glory,

blue, purple and white were colours of the day.

Wines were the generous river flowing in every man's cup,
indeed, it was a feast at its flattering height.

NOBLES are toasting golden chalices in the air, chattering and cheering, with ATTENDANTS
on their tails to refill royal wine as desired.

NOBLE

O! Our King, the only power of our kingdom,
the wealth and wits of Persia and Media,
may your reign last forever.

AHASUERUS

[Aside:] Indeed all powers belongs to rne, so are you all.
[Palms on his chest, caressing in a showy tomfoolery]

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AHASUERUS cont.

Loveth all that has been shown thee,

even to this hundred and fourscore days?

Yet! I'll show you more that you in all this time hath not seen,

contained in one,

such that thine eyes would blink a-gaze.

[Signalling waiters to refill his cup with wine]

Haaa! Days and days of unending merriment,

upon mine heart hath the savour of wines pleasured with its sweet scents.

[Spreads his arms sideways] Where are my Chamberlains?

HUSSEIN
Here we stand at your service, Your Majesty.

AHASUERUS
Quickly! Hussein and Farzad

and a few of you, my Chamberlains,

enter the haram, you've now my permission.

See for yourselves the prettiest property of your King.

Come tell our nobles and wise men of

what all you see there.

Then have the attending ladies bring

Vashti the Universal Queen before me

and on her weighty crown. It is a heavy weight

for her slender neck. See to it she has support.

Let mine nobles, princes and officials witness for themselves,

that compared to the beauties of my kingdom,

she's the peak of all beauties.

And let this company see the great jewels | have taken

to hoist upon the Queen of Queens.

FARZAD
We shall see all this done, my King.

Exit HUSSEIN, FARZAD, and CHAMBERLAINS.

Act | Scene ІІ

VASHTI is in her chamber, dressed in a white flowing gown with a blue band around her
waist. LADIES of class, WIVES of nobles, and EUNUCHS are present. VASHTI appears deep in
thought and lonely to one side. Only the EUNUCHS stand close by and guard her.

Enter CHAMBERLAINS with heads bowed, arms behind.

FARZAD
O! Queen of queens, the one with whorn all beauties lies,

the King this day desires thy presence in his chamber.

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VASHTI is kept mute for 60 seconds and does not move, while the rest of the players continue
with their business in mime and do not make any noise. Then VASHTI nods to the EUNUCHS
who respond by standing at ease.

VASHTI

[Turns to the CHAMBERLAINS:| Welcome you Farzad, Hussein,
and welcome to all the Chamberlains.

Have you the permission of the King to enter this place?

My eunuchs must see you out if he has not.

HUSSEIN
His express permission, but a few moments ago given.

VASHTI

[Addressing HUSSEIN:]| Then Hussein, pure of heart,

be ever a friend to me as you are to every noble here.
[Addressing all the CHAMBERLAINS:| Tell me Chamberlains,
what state is the King?

CHAMBERLAIN 1
He on this day remains King o'er
the entire kingdom, my Queen.

VASHTI

[Kindly.] Nay, prithee, what | ask after is

the state of mind of the King. What is his humour?
| have not seen my husband for many weeks.

HUSSEIN
[Cheerful with respect:] He is very merry and presidential,
as ever a King was.

VASHTI
[Cautiously] Is his face bright, is it dull with scarlet today?
Has he had enjoyed much of the wine?

FARZAD
He is very bright with scarlet and it becomes his manhood well.

VASHTI
This matter in all the state concerns me gravely.

VASHTI stands to her feet. The CHAMBERLAINS fumble backwards a few steps in uniformity.
VASHTI cont.
[Smiling at the CHAMBERLAINS|] If | were in need of clowns,

don't you suppose l'd sure have one in my chamber already?
| ask again, what is the King's humour?

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FARZAD

As simple as a goat kid before his nobles, my Queen.

[Pause, then with concern and more quietly, as he looks up at VASHTI:]
In sooth, my lady, all the men have much of the wine.

VASHTI

[Aside, sadly:] This means my husband is likely to
grow quick with rage moment to moment.

[To the CHAMBERLAINS, gravely:] Well then,

be gone with it, give the King mine reply,

| am tending to my women.

NARRATOR 2

There was a general silence in the Queen's chamber,
maidens pursed their lips,

matrons looked round with nought to say.

The Queen had dared to say ‘No’.

NARRATOR 1

The Chamberlains, they loitered around

the Queen's chamber. From time to time,

they'd peep through the silvered cotton to see the Queen.
Peradventure, she'd change her mind.

CYRA
My Queen, may | say a word?
Has it ever been heard that anyone ever said nay to the King?

VASHTI

Nay! But | know the King more than you all.

All the men are with the King, excited with wine.

Men may do regrettable deeds when such is the case.

| would men be raised up.

| could not see a man down,

nor sooner risk my own pate among them [indicating her head].

The EUNUCHS notice this and draw closer to the Queen protectively.

VASHTI cont.
[To the CHAMBERLAINS:] Say, let me come to him
when he retires to quiet.

CYRA

[Kindly and with сопсегп My Queen,

you are more beautiful measured up to all

the women in the kingdom.

The King is well pleased in you.

Not all women find favour before their husbands.
| would thee reconsider,

[pause, thoughtfully:] but for the wine...

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IRSIA

[Aside:] First, she's the beauty of beauties

and also chosen of the King.

She is to be shown before all the powers

of Persia and Media present in great jewels.

But she rejects such honour; what a prideful wench!
l've sort such attention all my days but got none.

VASHTI

He is my husband and |, his wife.

l've shown him all my charms for as many times

as desired in the closet and shall do so again this night.

But a public display before his nobles,

officials and the simpletons, such Га decline.

After the feast, he will think better on it and apprehend my concern.

A little time passes and the LADIES tend VASHTI who is in deep thought but tries to be
cheerful. The CHAMBERLAINS look to VASHTI and she shakes her head firmly at them. The
EUNUCHS stand at ease.

NARRATOR 2

For as many times the Queen sighted the
King's Chamberlains,

she'd give a look that owned their retreats.

VASHTI now grows distressed and the EUNUCHS, seeing this, draw close to her protectively.

VASHTI

[To the CHAMBERLAINS:| For the hundredth time,
go, give the King mine reply.

Ne’er will | leave my porch,

not even for the grants of half his kingdom,

not even for heaven's cry.

CYRA

[To VASHTI, indicating affection and great concern for her:]

Are you ready for the consequence, oh mighty beloved?

Your feet are not secure, not so much as last you lay with his majesty.
His mind is now upon all ornaments.

Make pageantry for the court.

VASHTI

[Looking confused and around at the faces of all the WIVES and LADIES:
This day was bound to come.

| will make no pageantry.

| have chosen the King's reputation above all,

| have also chosen my dignity.

The EUNUCHS come together and discuss something serious among themselves, while
keeping an eye on VASHTI.

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IRSIA

[Aside, haughty:] How can she be so foolish?

This prideful whore of the King should be cast out the palace gates.
Perchance the King will choose my daughter this day for his bed.
She is not so pretty nor so delicate as Vashti.

But she's well used 'o drunken fools.

CYRA
[Aside with distress:] | know not whether | see this
great woman again in the right safe place she deserves.

Act Il Scene |
The throne room, where AHASUERUS and the NOBLES make merry.

NARRATOR 1

Everyone awaited the Queen's grand entry in eagerness.
Seconds, minutes, hours and moments had passed,

but the great beauty had not appeared.

Where is the beauty of beauties as postulated by his majesty?
Or had he lied to them in their nobility?

Enter CHAMBERLAINS.

CHAMBERLAIN 1
[Heads bowed, arms behind] Please, a word for the King!

AHASUERUS
[His smile turns to a deep frown] Why return ye alone?

HUSSEIN
The Queen refuseth to leave her wornen.
Yet permit rne a brief word in your ear, Sire.

NARRATOR 1

There was silence everywhere.
And all hands grew still.

The eyes of thousands,

as present, were on the King,
heads cog to see what he'd do.

AHASUERUS

[Ignoring HUSSEIN, he gnashes his teeth ferociously, his chest moves up and down,
his chin, the target. A loud call:| WI-S-E M-E-N!

NARRATOR 1

They gathered before the King every wise man present.

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Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

AHASUERUS

[Sweating on his face] | could consume fire itself this instant.
See to thy knowledge wise man Memucan that | don't.
Provide me this day a lasting counsel on her my wife.

MEMUCAN

O! King, Vashti the Queen wronged thee not alone,

such an act would cause rebellion of women to any throne,
exemplifying for them, a stubborn stronghold,

to despise their husbands and their household

along the length and breadth of your entire territory.

Not a woman shall hear her husband evermore.

Command ye this day my King,

wives shall give their husbands honour,

she must withstand great or small abuse and let him have none.
Апа let it, О! King,

be published throughout with the symbol of thy ring.

Let Vashti the Queen be no more royal,

but her crown be given to whom would be loyal.

NARRATOR 1

Everyone's head nodded in uniformity,
in agreement to the wise man's counsel.
The King was pleased,

and the deal was sealed.

NARRATOR 2

And so was it to be performed?

Would Vashti be uncrowned Queen?

And would she be banished from the palace?

Sorrowful music plays.

Act Il Scene |
As previous.

MEMUCAN

[Aside:] The King is simple to convictions,

less it comes to pass, the moment we're adjourned,

he be won over by Vashti,

she who has not favoured me for promotion?

| must see to it that the matter is settled this instant.

[То AHASUERUS:] My King, iron is well smitten while it be hot,
| propose this matter be performed this day.

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AHASUERUS
Ye are a wise man,
I'm well pleased with your counsels.

MEMUCAN

My King, see to it that ye go not into the Queen's chamber.

Let her be brought before the court straight or bent.

Let the matter be patterned and uncluttered this very day.
Remember, a King's honour is esteemed by his words and actions.

AHASUERUS

Hussein, Farzad, draw near,

| wouldn't that my orders stagger twice.

Quickly, storm the haram, seize my wench of a wife and bring her before.
[As they hasten away, AHASUERUS calls after them: |

Show not thy faces to me except you have her with you.

Be gone with it.

Exit the CHAMBERLAINS.

Act Il Scene Il

Outside VASHTI'S chamber. EUNUCHS guard the door. Enter HUSSEIN, FARZAD and other
CHAMBERLAINS.

HUSSEIN

O fellows, | prithee, hurry slowly.

We must see to it that no harm is brought upon the Queen.
Or have you forgotten the good old days,

when upon her pleads,

we were let loosed of the King’s bands?

When we went silly and became unfit for the palace rays,
our heads were almost gone, but she intercepted.

She always knew what words to entreat the King

to have us all preserved. Let kindness ne’er be forgotten.
You stay here at the corridor while | go into the haram.

The CHAMBERLAINS struggle with the EUNUCHS to break into the chamber despite
HUSSEIN'S request.

FARZAD

Down with it!

Have you lost all heeds for your Queen?
For as long as she's confined in the palace,
she remains our Queen.

The CHAMBERLAINS give up but the EUNUCHS are wary of them. They allow HUSSEIN into
the Queen's chamber. FAZARD stays out to help restrain the others from breaking in.

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Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

VASHTI

Hussein, you are here for the second time, is all well?
And why art thou cast down?

Your countenance hangs like an old rag on a line,

an embodiment of distress, prithee, say something.

HUSSEIN
The King...

VASHTI
Is all well with him?

HUSSEIN

He groweth quick with wrath moment to moment.

There is no temperament in him and the nobles,

they tend to fuel his fire.

He commanded that you be seized by crook or straight.

But as surely as I’m here, no harm shall come upon the Queen.
Prithee, come in your consent.

Exit ALL.

Act 1 Scene IV
The throne room. Enter VASHTI, LADIES and WIVES, CHAMBERLAINS and EUNUCHS.

NARRATOR 1

Women were never to speak whenever the King
was with his officials.

Less she was granted audience by the King
through the demonstration of his sceptre.

NARRATOR 2
And so Vashti kept eye contact with the King.
Perhaps he'd read through her eyes and be reckoned with her.

AHASUERUS

[Staggers a bit] Vashti, alas ye appear before me.
[He turns away from her]

For as long obedience was found in thee,

you remained my wife this for ten and four years,
but today, you did chose to err,

thus shall you have a taste of your action.

From this day onward, you shall be no more Queen
and cease to live in my palace.

[Pauses and examines the faces of his NOBLES who wait to know his judgement]
Guards, strip her of my weighty crown.

VASHTI falls before the King.

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NARRATOR 1

As soon as the word left the King’s mouth,

Battalions of guards surrounded Vashti, grasp her by the arm,
Like a criminal on the run.

AHASUERUS

Take her to the outskirt of my palace,

my kingdom, or wheresoever suits you.
[Thundering:| But be certain "15 where our paths will
ne'er thread again.

AHASUERUS stands off to one side alone.

NARRATOR 2

They laid hands on the Queen, the guards.

They jerked on her wrist as though she was not,

and her crown tossed carelessly as though 'twas made of wood.
[Disgusted:] The one whose face they could never bring

their eyes to look on, now wallows for mercy like a commoner.
Respect does not live here.

NOBLE
So the Queen's purpose has returned
to show women how they must fear men always.

CYRA
Be careful with her!

IRSIA

[Aside:] My daughter shall make a better queen.
[Laughing:] What if | make a better queen instead?
Either way, the palace shall be mine.

MEMUCAN
Away with her.

HUSSEIN

[Fallen before MEMUCAN:]| Wise man of our time, prithee,
revisit this matter with the King, for he yields to your counsels.
Perhaps he'll hearken and...

MEMUCAN

Fool, off my garment.

What right have you to make such request of me?

Know this, whenever great matters of the

kingdom are discussed, servants like you are never considered.
You are nothing but one of my foot kissers,

and if | want it this day, I'll be sure the King banishes you
alongside your undeserving Queen.

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NARRATOR 1

While Vashti was dragged off the throne,

the King was no more in sight.

He'd moved to the hidden section of the palace
where shades were thicker.

NARRATOR 2

His eyes were reddened, once more contact with Vashti,
and he'd try to undo his command, for even in sorrow,
she appears far irresistible to him.

AHASUERUS

| must act firm.

[To his guards:] Why are you still here?

Would ye that | bring mattress so ye sleep while at it?
Move, | want everything about her off my palace.

IRSIA

It's finally happening, the day l've long wished for,

to see the prettiest of us all tagged the ugliest.

Let us see what becomes of her beauty without the crown.

NARRATOR 1

Vashti's eunuchs watched helplessly, powerless against the King,
powerless against his nobles.

The simpletons stood confused,

could someone make clear the matter to them?

Yesterday she was their Queen, today she's not.

The nobles were gladdened, for now they'd do

same to their wives if ever they revolted against their commands.
But had Vashti wronged the King away in his closet

for such public display of outright rejection?

No one would ever know.

The EUNUCHS cannot keep calm any longer. They rush in to try to rescue VASHTI from the
GUARDS' maltreatment, but are pushed away by the NOBLES. Exit AHASUERUS.

Pandemonium breaks out in the palace.

Light fades...

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Act Ill Scene |
The throne room. Some time later.

NARRATOR 2

She was dropped off the palace outskirt,

where she wandered all alone,

for Memucan had ordered all eunuchs to stay back.

The Chamberlains owed their loyalties to him as well,

they could only step out of the palace with relief of duty.

The nobles gave their wives the look that retreated their feet,
none wished to be fated as Vashti.

NARRATOR 1

Several months passed,

and the palace has never remained the same,

everyone lived in confusion.

There was no queen to oversee daily activities

in the palace as before.

Joy was wearied away from the faces of palace inhabitants.

NARRATOR 2

[To NARRATOR || He's always enraged, the King,

scourging out wrath on anyone whose luck was not for the day.
The Chamberlains now adjusted to

his distress calls the moment he waked,

neither did they give their eyes to sleep at night.

For as long as the King couldn't stop calling unto

Vashti in his dreams, they thought he was fully awake.

AHASUERUS

[As if awakening from a dream in horror:] It is. It is!

All | have done is marked down.

My law is fixed, written in the breath of... the breath of cheap wine!

[Looking at himself:] Oh, | am base! And fully alone in this anguish.

Who indeed can | speak to of such foolishness?

She can never return to me. Whatever can be set right?

Let me distract myself in attendance to labours of my court.

[Recalling Vashti again, he is pained and gives out a loud screech. Then calling:]
Hus-sein, Far-zad! [Curses under his breath.]

NARRATOR 1
Here we go yet again, each day this ritual.

AHASUERUS

Take my word, give it to my nobles.

Say to them, the King shall appoint his

right-hand man by the morrow. One who'd oversee

to daily politics of the palace in the manner as did... [pause].
What is the matter? [He roars:] Be gone with it.

Exit HUSSEIN and FARZAD.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 111

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper
Act Ill Scene II
The outer rooms of the court.

NARRATOR 1
Could someone tell the King that he needs a her not a him?

NARRATOR 2

Following the King's issued out message,
Nobles had gathered at Shushan, the palace,
and were ready to take up promotion to the
political office once held by Vashti.

Enter HUSSEIN.

HUSSEIN

Greetings great nobles of our kingdom.

The King shall acquaint your presence soon.

If | may, could | say a word and hope to be heard?

NOBLE
Go on.

HUSSEIN

The King doth greatly esteern your counsels,
prithee, plead with him. Peradventure he'd repent
of his wrath and restore Vashti as Queen.

MEMUCAN

You must be a dog, to love your mistress than your King.
Tell me, with whom does your loyalty lie?

Ought it not with the King be, who'd considered so
minute your status to serve in the palace,

you insignificant fool?

[To NOBLES:] Gentlemen, рау no attention to this mole, can ye not see?
The moment Vashti is restored,

the very reason for our gathering would be in vain.

If she be restored, then we've lost all hope of promotion.
[Aside:] Although certainly, I’m sure,

the King would place me above уеа!.

[To HUSSEIN:] | see ye'll never stop less

your mistress be restored, hmmm.

[To NOBLES:]| Gentlemen, | say we shut him up forever,
for as long as he be alive and around the palace,

he might run into luck someday and the King

be convinced of him. Or would ye suppose this
insignificant dog be promoted rather than you?

He'd remove us to have his mistress restored

and it'll be our heads in exchange. Think gentlemen, think.

112 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

NARRATOR 1

And the matter pleased the nobles,

for they knew how badly they've behaved towards Vashti.
And so Hussein was surrounded,

beaten to stupor and was prepared to be dragged out.

HUSSEIN is beaten by the NOBLES while MEMUCAN goads them on.
Enter AHASUERUS.

AHASUERUS

Halt! Arrest all commotion this instant!

[Walking closer, seeing HUSSEIN:| What, Hussein!
Whose scheme was this?

MEMUCAN

O King, this matter will certainly be of interest to you.
This man's loyalty lies with Vashti,

the one in whom ye are displeased,

for she'd committed such an unpardonable

crime against thee and thy kingdom.

AHASUERUS
You don't say.

MEMUCAN
My King, he is an enemy of your kingdom,
his loyalty lies not with you.

AHASUERUS

Alas, we well know with whom his loyalty lies.
[Directly to MEMUCAN:| Can it be said of thee?

Pick him up, see to it that you pay for his treatment
and all you must make him recompense.

HUSSEIN gets up on his own but can barely stand on his feet.
Enter HAMAN.

AHASUERUS cont.

Welcome Haman,

yourre just right in time for my decision.
Though you appear the least in the order
of positioning in the affairs of my kingdom,
now shall you esteem above all,

for so have | promoted thee this day.

NARRATOR

It couldn't be, the table was spun
and Memucan was overturned.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 113

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

MEMUCAN

О King, | wish not to question your decision,

but | stand to remind thee of your promise to me:
“| shall make thee my right-hand man".

AHASUERUS
Leave now that you still maintain your current position.
| have matters to attend to with Haman.

Exit ALL.

Act IV Scene |

A cave-like building. Enter CYRA, FARZAD and some EUNUCHS bearing jars, cloth and
baskets.

FARZAD and EUNUCHS exchange pleasantries quietly with VASHTI and then step out to
keep surveillance of the environment.

VASHTI

[Sighs] O Cyra, come here. [hugging her]

You have no idea of how I've longed for your presence.
You, Hussein and a few kind eunuchs

have become my only family.

When days had gone by and your faces | sighted not,

| am disquieted.

CYRA
My Queen.

VASHTI

Will you not cease from addressing me thus?
No crown have | on my head,

nor hold an office worthy of that position.

CYRA

A Queen's honour is not by the number of her crown.

l've always esteemed thee above thy crown while in the palace,
even so now have you command more, my respect.

VASHTI

Neither have | a copper coin to my name.

Poverty is my newfound companion.

| am nothing like the Queen you once knew.

Reckon me as а commoner | now am.

[Pauses] Away with that. Prithee, how are my precious ones?

CYRA is silent. VASHTI senses something is amiss.

114 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

VASHTI cont.

Prithee Cyra, what status Is the faithful Hussein?
Is it well with him?

Ней ne'er failed to visit but today.

CYRA

He at this point fights for his life,

for so had the King's nobles made a mockery
of him some days back.

VASHTI
O Cyra! Do not hold back anything, tell me all.

CYRA

Not a thing has remained the same around the palace
since the time of your disregard.

The King would be heard crying in his chamber,

even in his dreams, all he does is cry out your name.

A few days ago, he summoned for all his nobles

to appear before him, to promote one who'd oversee
some matters of politics such that you often performed.
Hussein, faithful as ever, had pleaded the nobles to
consider your restoration as Queen,

but Memucan spate on his request and made

a pig show of him with the help of others.

VASHTI

[Sobs:] Poor Hussein, | brought this upon him.

| feared this would happen, and ttis but a matter of time
before the eunuchs would be forced to keep off me.

CYRA

Bigthana and Teresh the eunuchs,

two keepers of the door you shall well know,

so much vexed at the injustice, sought audience

and growing more enraged, would lay hand on the King.
They were caught, for they were few in number.

Their fates are yet to be decided.

Many eunuchs would revolt,

if only there were a good number of them.

VASHTI
In all these, | have but just a wish,
let no harm come upon the King.

CYRA

| baffle at the nature of your soul.

So pure your intentions towards the King,
even till now.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 115

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

VASHTI
Tell me, which noble promoted he?

CYRA
Haman.

VASHTI
Haman, the son of Hammedatha?

CYRA
You speak as though you know so well.

VASHTI

| surely do know him so well.

Hammedatha was once a Chamberlain

during my father's reign as King.

He was married to one of the palace maids and begat Haman.
Haman and | were brought in the palace.

His father was present during my union with the King.

CYRA
Do you think Haman would act in your favour?

VASHTI

Enough of this desire for my restoration.
Having made up my mind to take my stance,

| am now the commander of my fate,

and l'Il stay faithful to it till the end.

My prayer is that Haman esteems the kingdom
above all things, such as | did.

CYRA

| admire you more each day.

Never seen much of persons who regards
everyone and everything before self, nay,
not as ye are.

Act IV Scene Il

The palace. A loud wailing is heard off-stage from the left side.
Enter AHASUERUS from the left.

AHASUERUS

Nonsense, bunch of no-sense making individuals,
get out of my sight!

116 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

NARRATOR 1

From the day Vashti was ousted,

no human actions please the King anymore.

Not even the performance of his promoted noble.

Exit AHASUERUS to the right. Enter FARZAD and NOBLES.

FARZAD

Less one of these days, the King be as a wild animal

and prey on us, | will suggest to him that there

be fair young virgins sought for, and let the maiden

that pleases him be made Queen in place of Vashti.

Thus the palace shall observe its peaceful status just as before.

Exit FARZAD and NOBLES.

NARRATOR 2

And the matter appeared to please the King.

He appointed for the assignment officers in all the provinces.
They gathered all the fair young virgins

at Shushan the palace for purification.

Yet long they awaited his attention.

Enter HEGE, followed by IRSIA.

IRSIA

Hege, the amicable one.

| must commend you for your diligent services
rendered the King all these years.

HEGE
Greetings, many hail me such as you my lady.
I've found favour іп ladies’ sights.

IRSIA
In favour, you have found.
In desires, | shall grant thee. But narme it.

HEGE
My lady, | stand to be informed,
upon what ground had this entreating found me?

IRSIA
The King has gathered all fair virgins of his kingdom
here and has made thee their custodian.

Is the office not worth the spread of thy fame?

IRSIA moves closer to him, but HEGE, feeling uncomfortable, retreats from her.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 117

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

IRSIA cont.

It will be in your great interest to know
that my daughter has come of age,
and she is more of a virgin than all the
virgins in the kingdom.

She's gathered here as well.

HEGE
Prithee, my lady, of what use is this information to me?

IRSIA
See to it that she's chosen of the King.
Surely you shall have whatsoever reward you desire.

HEGE

My lady, | am only but the King's Chamberlain.

| have no control o'er whom the King's heart would beat after.
But this I’m certain about, | shall treat all maidens

equally and process them to the test of the King.

IRSIA

Yet the King’s desires, you possess this knowledge.

Let it be known only to my daughter.

When she's Queen, your status will be no more a Chamberlain,
yielding to commands all your life,

but you shall rule of the provinces and

give orders to whornever you wish to walk upon.

HEGE

l'd rather be a gatekeeper in the palace

than bring my esteem low to the state you seek to place me.
With your permission, | shall take my leave, lady Irsia.

EXIT HEGE.

IRSIA

Lady Irsia? That insignificant fool.

He dares to call my name.

If | was raised in a royal horne like Vashti,
l'd been the chosen one for the King and
you all would call me Queen!

Enter NEDA.

IRSIA

[Addressing NEDA as she walks through to the King:]

| have had words with Hege. He is of no use to us, Neda my daughter.
Go in then and be sure you emerge Queen.

We all know you are no virgin and art known to this manner.
Perhaps your exhibits will bring us the kingdom.

118 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

NEDA
As you wish mother.

Exit NEDA.

NARRATOR 1

After twelve months, according to the time of purification,
Six months with oil and myrrh,

and yet another six months with sweet perfumes,

The maidens with their minted virginity were purified

and given beauty treatment upon treatment.

NARRATOR 2
A bath would suffice.
It is but men's minds that think they come in unclean.

NARRATOR 1

Each maiden went into the King accordingly in their turns.

By custom, she went in the evening and returned in the morning,
For thus she’d please the King the whole night.

NARRATOR 2
And if he was most pleased of a maiden, she wouldn't return anymore,
Instead, the rest of the maidens would be dismissed.

Re-enter NEDA, followed by HEGE.

NARRATOR 1

No sooner had Neda stepped into the King’s
chamber than she returned.

For thus the King was turned off his glory
the moment she walked into his chamber.

IRSIA
[To HEGE:] The rule is, а maiden go in the evening and return in the morning.
Then why was my daughter turned down before the show begun?

HEGE

There is no such rule per se.

And no one questions the King's decisions.
If he said nay, then it is nay.

IRSIA

Nay, | refuse. Take rne to the King,

perhaps he'll take interest and go in with me.
If I'm not conferred as Queen,

l'd sure make a good concubine.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 119

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

IRSIA tries to break her way to the King's chamber, but there is a struggle with the GUARDS
and she is removed from the palace.

NARRATOR 2

After the King have had a test of all the virgins present,

he finally picked one and placed a crown on her to be his Queen.
The rest remained as concubines and went not unto the King again,
less he desired them.

Act V Scene |
VASHTI on her sickbed, weak and pale.

VASHTI

| stood upon my watch from the window days ago,
and observed candles of joy from the palace.

Such as could only be seen when there was a banquet.
Prithee, do not lie to me in my last hour,

what meaneth this celebration?

HUSSEIN
The King was in search of a new queen.

VASHTI
Has he found her?

HUSSEIN

I'm afraid so, my lady.

Your royal crown is upon her head.

There has been а great feast unto all his nobles and servants,

gifts released to each province for help in search of the finest virgins.
All these took place for twelve month long.

"Twas a long time without a queen for the court to look to.

The nobles made strict order, no chamberlain, guard or

eunuch leave the palace until the purification

and selection rite season was o'er.

VASHTI
| see why you all were no more at my side.

HUSSEIN

Not perhaps, | think, for the maidens.

There is much discontent about court.

The air swelters with a dank moss

and anyone's foot is quickly snatched upon it.

Green filaments are as whatsoever trifle stroking tenderest places
and men madden with gall in their throat for it.

120 JAN 2022 - JAY LIT

керо 4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

HUSSEIN cont.
Lights of joy do burn in the open,
yet a sconce against the wall is more fitted among the hanging.

Enter CYRA and EUNUCHS with herbs and medicines.

CYRA
How are you dear woman?

VASHTI

It has been twelve months of torture and pain,

and death had refused to bid my cry for an end.
Sometimes Га lay on my rustic mat and gaze on the dark,
it was the only beauty left after the nightmare of each day.
The moment | closed to sleep, l'd be surrounded by
forces of darkness chasing me to my doom.

When | wake, а realise all were true,

for thus my body was still in this world although

my spirit hangs in another realm.

Nay, I’m certain I'd not last till morrow.

This ailment hearkens not to medicines.

I've done all | could, if | could see a physician at its earliest stage,
га be survived. But tis too late now.

Observe the depth of the scales on my skin,

| have no life anymore.

An abandoned property of the King.

Wouldn't it be of pleasure to have a taste of what made
the King refer to her as the most beautiful?

We shall take turns and dread as many times as wished,
for thus our lucks bids us well —

These, the sons of perdition said when they

forcefully accessed where | dwell.

And so a many hungry men preyed upon me.

| became their point of entry and exit.

Days were no different from nights.

The little coppers I had, they napped them all.

| had given up the ghost,

but for kind gestures of some few,

who lent me their leftovers.

But as soon as they were gone,

the sons of perdition would return [sobs profusely].

The others present begin to lament.
HUSSEIN

| will never forgive myself. | let you down.
Prithee, forgive me my Queen.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 121

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper

VASHTI

Nay, Hussein.

Ye almost lost life in order to save mine.

| owe you an apology, forgive me.

Oh, how | prayed that my case wouldn't be the end of you.
And now my heart leaps for joy seeing you still standing.
Do not cry so much for me.

Instead, let's have some joy in good old memories.

Back in the days when | was the King’s favourite,

he had concubines but he chose to be with me often.

l'd take my seat by his side whenever we journeyed on

a ceremonial function to neighbouring kingdorms.

He delegated some matters of politics to me and
considered my words when his wrath tried to take hold of him.
There was so much more...

[Sighs:] But there was a side to him that | begun to see,
when he took hold of the golden cup,

he never stops till he was knocked out.

| was always there to cover him up.

Same habit of his that has caused me this state.

| wished | never agreed to this plan,

the stretching out of the feast which ushered in my fate.

CYRA

Nay my Queen, ye did what a woman ought

to always do, support her husband.

But he took his state out upon his Queen.

No matter what place of mind he was as at that moment,
what worst a crime committed

you that could not be pardoned?

VASHTI

The King has moved оп, | too shall move.

| was the author of my fate and l've stayed faithful to it.

It is well you came this day.

| do not have another to spare.

[Using the last of her strength:] Let the King live forever
innocent and with his word 'graved in stone but

let me be swept unto the margin of history.

If it is else, | will be too remembered and my name used
as a sharp point for staking wives to the ground.

Prithee, love my precious ones but do not tell them of me.
Let them be happy and think not of me, and you,

do not recall me. Speak not of me.

Now I shall wander and deviate from the page of history.
Draw the veil across and do not look, my friends, how | go.

CYRA clings to VASHTI'S hands and keeps her eyes on her even though VASHTI would not be

seen at all. HUSSEIN turns away and sobs. VASHTI dies. The company is in great distress. The
EUNUCHS lift her body and carry her out.

122 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

JAN 2022 4 THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

NARRATOR 1

She indeed moved on, but unto a sorrow-free life.
The yoke and burden of mockery was lifted off.
Only the dead knows what life it endured.

CYRA

We must prepare her body for the burial rites.

We shall bury her in three days’ time,

at the completion of every rite.

Hussein, prithee, help me prepare a bath for her cleansing.
Although none of her relations are present,

| shall stand in the gap, for l've been acquainted of her,
she'd treated me as family.

| shall wash and oil her body to chase away

evil spirits from her urvara.

Let them say as they would of her,

evil shall not penetrate this one,

for so she'd remained while with us.

HUSSEIN

While you do this my lady,

| shall prepare white roses for her mound.
This we must always bring to her and bring
offering on Hamaspathmaedaya

in honour of the spirit of our dead.

So she shall forever live in our hearts.

NARRATOR 2

Her body was prepared for burial rites,

Cyra washed and oiled her body, for she was same in gender.
She was wrapped with white linen and positioned

in the room to be watched and prayed for three days

where her spirit is believed to reside in the earth.

NARRATOR 1

She was then laid to rest on the third day

on a land adjacent to the palace.

Sands were thrown onto her grave.

The dusk was here and tomorrow would tell a different story.
Vashti was indeed no more.

JAN 2022 - JAY LIT 123

Enoima Edem Okon and Berren Thamper
Act V Scene Il

VASHTI'S burial mound. She stands all painted white and in white clothing. She is now a
statue erected of herself.

NARRATOR 1

No sculptor has been able to sculpt such a fine woman,

laid untapped in the one whose path unspeakably

lives a trail for emulation.

Bold, fearless and unwearied, you paid the price for a prize.

The King and his kingdom, the prize you chose worth your fight
though it cost you all.

NARRATOR 2

The King said you were beautiful,

| guess he was blind.

He couldn't see beyond the sensual,
that which you possessed,

which fares far beyond one's eyes.

NARRATOR 1

We see virtue,

we see patience,

we see a woman,

not wavered by the gnashing of fangs,

but firm in her will.

You indeed stayed faithful to fate,

for such you ordained to hold the systern still.
You humbly chose to surrender,

that no man's pride would have it all.

NARRATOR 2

From this day onward,

we know what is expected of us,

and that we shall adhere to,

for thus you've enlightened our path.

[To the audience:;] We thank you all for granting us
your audience to end silence and hear our
account of a great queen.

Light fades.

124 JAN 2022. JAY LIT

Royston Pieterse from Cape Town, South Africa, has been teaching English
Language and Literature to high school students for seven years and is
passionate about inspiring a love for learning within his students. He stands for
equity, empathy, respect, and relationships, and believes that highlighting the
worth of these principles is best explored through literature.

Royston holds a BCom (Law), a BA (International Relations and Diplomacy), a
PGCE, and is currently studying towards a BA (Hons) in English Studies at Unisa.
His essay presented here derives from his recent studies of the Fantasy genre in
literature, including contemporary African Youth Fantasy by Nnedi Okorafor.

ISSUE 05
JAN 2022

4) THE JOURNAL OF AFRICAN YOUTH LITERATURE

A Melee with Morality: A discussion of how the main characters in The
Throne of the Crescent Moon and What Sunny Saw in the Flames
navigate the tension between good and evil

The battle between good and evil has fascinated humankind and our myriad cultures since
our species could first tell stories. There seems to be, in humanity, an innate sense of the
dichotomy between that which is benevolent and that which is malevolent in our world.
However, most stories depict the choice to do bad as the easy choice, the tempting choice, as
it often comes with tangible rewards: material wealth, power, being feared. In contrast to this,
making the right choice, the moral choice, cornes at a great cost and sacrifice. This internal
conflict has fed into our myths, cultures, and religions. Stemming from this, human cultures
worldwide have established mores, moral codes, ways of living, behaving and being which
are considered virtuous, allowing us to distinguish good from evil.

Moreover, this desire to be good has fed into the stories we tell. It is also what makes Fantasy
literature so appealing because good (usually) triumphs over evil. Fantasy literature seems to
ease the ostensibly universal anxieties experienced by many cultures in the world by
modelling the behaviour believed to be crucial in solving problems, crucial in defeating evil.
Ursula K. Le Guin (1975: 147) states that "fantasy is the natural, the appropriate, language for
the recounting of the spiritual journey and the struggle of good and evil in the soul." Here, Le
Guin highlights the spiritual journey to which many cultures subscribe and how this journey
is emulated in the tropes and concerns explored in Fantasy literature. In this vein, the main
characters in The Throne of the Crescent Moon (2012) written by Saladin Ahmed and in What
Sunny Saw in the Flames (2011) by Nnedi Okorafor (also published under the title Akata
Witch), are required to navigate this tension between good and evil.

Dr Adoulla Makhslood from Ahmed's novel 15 an old, experienced man and does not view the
world through a dichotomous lens; rather, he views the world as a combination of good and
bad, and believes that the true test of a person's character is through their deeds and the
motivations behind them. However, he does use religious scriptures as part of his spell
casting as a ghul (ghoul) hunter and this is the framework for his belief system. The Traitorous
Angel, ghuls, and djenn encountered in the novel are undoubtedly evil - there is no grey area
there. He believes that human beings have the capacity for both good and evil and that it is
God's will that people try to use their good to defeat pure evil. His protégé, Raseed bas
Raseed, however, while able to identify pure evil as Adoulla does, views adherence to rules
and religion as a sign of piety and goodness. This makes his worldview more rigid. This could
be problematic in a world in which morality is not always clearly defined.

On the other hand, in the second novel | discuss, Sunny Nwazue is a preteen who is still
learning about the world around her. She is viewed as an outsider by many in her society and
because of this, she shares a similar view of people to Adoulla, albeit less worldly. Even as she
discovers her new hidden identity, she encounters evil and is clearly able to distinguish
between it and the duality of human beings. Adoulla and Sunny seem to understand the
fallibility of humans, while Raseed seerms naively rigid about what is considered right and
wrong in his society.

JAN 2022. JAY LIT 127

Royston Pieterse

This tension between right and wrong is what could be considered morality, and it is an
extremely important concept, particularly in Fantasy literature. Because the underlying
nature of ethical dilemmas that characters navigate in Fantasy are as real as those
encountered by protagonists in realist literature, the reader of Fantasy is encouraged to learn
something and may be educated on ethics (Takle, 2017: 222). Quoting Martha Nussbaum,
Takle (223) states: “Some stories clearly divide people into certain groups and pass on to
children that 'the world will be set right when some ugly and disgusting witch or monster is
killed". Takle (ibid) believes that this is:

an unfortunate contribution to the impression one can often get from reading simplistic
stories for children; the idea of that the world easily can be divided into rigid
polarizations like good/evil, without the necessary precaution of nuancing this even
slightly for the readers/listeners.

Ursula le Guin (1975: 144) says something similar:

Most great fantasies contain a very strong, striking moral dialectic, often expressed as a
struggle between the Darkness and the Light. But that makes it sound simple, and the
ethics of the unconscious of the dream, the fantasy, the fairytale are not simple at all. They
are, indeed, very strange.

This is the gravity of morality, of free will. Authentic characters like Adoulla, Raseed, and
Sunny grapple with their conscience in order to determine what is right and wrong. While
Adoulla and Sunny seem to accept that "sometimes right is wrong and wrong is right"
(Okorafor, 2011: 74), Raseed has not (yet) accepted his (dark) side, his shadow, as suggested by
Carl Jung (1958), and this makes him vulnerable to exploitation, manipulation, and suffering.
While Adoulla can be seen as morally ambiguous, and Sunny can be seen as monstrous,
Raseed is an example of the moral rigidity of ‘purity’ and its limitations. In their individual
ways, these characters navigate and grapple with their own inclinations towards good and
evil.

The Throne of the Crescent Moon is set in the city of Dhamsawaat in a quasi-Middle Eastern
kingdom where ghuls and djenn exist and are a threat to the tentative peace in human
society. Adoulla Makhslood, "the last real ghul hunter in the great city of Dnamsawaat”
(Ahmed, 2012: 4), loves the city and has lived there his entire life. He loves the character of the
city for its good qualities. He accepts that individuals will always have a bit of both good and
bad within them, and so offers his friendship to thieves, whores, scholars, and shop owners
alike. This outlook allows him to see the human being before judging them for their
occupation or position in life. He has empathy and is able to view things from others'
perspectives. He even has a long-standing relationship with Miri Almoussa, the madam of a
well-known brothel in the city. Miri is the love of his life, but people judge him for being in
love with a prostitute.

In particular, it is interesting to note his response to the Falcon Prince, Pharaad Az Hammaz, a
Robin Hood-like figure who publicly opposes the iron-fisted Khalif, the ruler of the kingdom.
While Adoulla is a ghul hunter and, by definition, fights evil, he understands the difference
between morality on the one hand, and the binary of good versus evil on the other. As the
primary protagonist, his perception of the Falcon Prince encourages the reader to
contemplate whether this thief-prince should be deemed evil or not.

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The reader is asked to consider Adoulla's response to the Falcon Prince and his reasoning,
alongside his resounding abhorrence of ghuls. When speaking to his friend Yehyeh about the
Falcon Prince, the narrator reveals that Adoulla:

agreed that the "Prince" was likely mad, but he still found himself approving of the would-
be usurper. The man had stolen a great deal from the coffers of the Khalif and rich
merchants, and much of that money found its way into the hands of Dhamsawaat's
poorest [...]

Adoulla snorted: "Khalifs justice’? Now there were two words that refuse to share a tent!
That piece of shit isn't half as smart a ruler as his father was, but he's twice as cruel. Is it
justice to let half the city starve while that greedy son of a whore sits on his brocaded
cushions eating peeled grapes?" (Ahmed, 2012: 5).

In this passage, it is clear that while Adoulla accepts that theft is wrong, he understands the
morality of thieving from those who benefit from the suffering of the poor, the “Khalif and
rich merchants". Sometimes one has to fight fire with fire. Furthermore, Adoulla's snorting at
Yehyeh's question about justice clearly indicates his criticism of the concept of justice as it
pertains to right and wrong. He questions whether it should still be considered just for a ruler
to enjoy extreme luxury in the form of "brocaded cushions" and "peeled grapes”, while his
subjects suffer starvation. He is also critical of the Khalif, referring to him as a "greedy son of a
whore" (Ahmed, 2012: 7). For Adoulla, therefore, there is more justice in the Falcon Prince's
actions, placing the stolen money "into the hands of Dhamsawaats poorest”. Again, his
perspective elucidates the complex relationship between good, evil, and morality. Adoulla
understands that life is not that straightforward, and, in this way, Ahmed shows that Fantasy
literature can be instructive for readers and reflect the complexity of their real-world
circumstances, despite its fantastical material.

In contrast to Adoulla's position, Raseed is critical of the Falcon Prince. Adoulla then
admonishes Raseed saying:

"We are obligated to fight the servants of the Traitorous Angel. Pharaad Az Hammaz may
be a criminal, but he feeds the poor and chastens the proud. Surely even your zealous eyes
can see the virtue in that!" (Ahmed, 2012: 26).

Adoulla questions blind adherence to man-made rules and ideas of justice and criminality,
and differentiates it clearly from evil. His reference to the Traitorous Angel refers to the
"central plot conflict [which] is couched as a battle between the Merciful God of the books
and the forces of the Traitorous Angel, which is, of course, a naked reference to the
Abrahamic religions in the real world" (Binary Cafe, 2016). That humans are allowed to possess
a blend of moral values is clearly Adoulla's perspective. Criminality does not necessarily
equate to evil. However, what is good and what is evil is clearly defined, and it is his aim to get
Raseed to understand the difference. Furthermore, it may be argued at this point that the
Falcon Prince could be considered a hero, and probably is perceived as one by many of the
poor of Dhamsawaat. At the same time, he might be viewed by others as evil in the sense
that his behaviour is uncanny, unpredictable, and criminal even. However, his good deeds
negate this potential evil; as in the Abrahamic religions mentioned above, there is an
opportunity for redemption if one's deeds are morally just.

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Moreover, in addition to this clear distinction between good and evil, Adoulla views the ghuls,
Mouw Awa, Orshado, and the Traitorous Angel as purely evil, in opposition to the Merciful
Angels and Merciful God. There is no grey area here for him. For example, bone ghuls are
described in an early encounter with Adoulla and Raseed as monsters with "Maggots
dribbling from one ghul's neck-wound" while "The other stared at Raseed with empty eyes.
Some vicious unliving instinct within the monster was weighing when to strike" (Ahmed,
2012: 58). These descriptions of undead beings covered in maggots, with their association
with decomposing flesh, encourages in readers a feeling of disgust and abhorrence. These all
conform to the concept of the "abject" described by Julia Kristeva (1982: 127) as what has been
discarded from the body: waste particles. These descriptions connote the putrid, disgusting,
and grotesque. This response to the ghuls also evokes Freud's (1919, in Weinstock, 2020: 69)
“uncanny”, in that we experience the uncanny “when there is intellectual uncertainly whether
an object is alive or not, and when an inanimate object becomes too much like an animate
one". In the explanation of the uncanny, Freud further states that our fear of the undead is
caused by our innate fear of death, but also our limited scientific knowledge about it (we
need to be able to explain it, categorise it). We fear that “the dead man becomes the enemy
of his survivor and seeks to carry him off to share his new life with him" (75).

The ghuls are stereotypical monsters “with empty eyes”, confirming their soulless nature.
They are intent on doing harm as they possess a “vicious unliving instinct" to kill Adoulla and
Raseed. Because of this, the reader thus shares Adoulla's response to the ghuls: they are
unequivocally evil.

The next monster in the novel, Mouw Awa, is described as a "jackal-thing" who “was
apparently born of ancient Kem magics - twisted spells that [..] steel [..] and Adoulla's
invocations could well be useless against" (Ahmed 2012: 105). The "ancient Kem magics" are
"twisted" (a word that cues the reader to read them as evil) and were used to create Mouw
Awa. These are distinguished from the magic and spells invoked by Adoulla and his friends.
While some might view Adoulla with trepidation due to his reputation for killing ghuls and
casting spells, he is no monster. This distinguishes Mouw Awa from the novel's protagonists.
Mouw Awa cannot be defined according to existing knowledge of what is considered normal;
he is also seen as a "disturbing hybrid" with an "incoherent bod[y]" and so is dangerous
(Cohen, 1996: 6; Weinstock, 2020: 9). In particular, he must be differentiated from Zamia Banu
Laith Badawi, a character who joins Adoulla and Raseed on their quest to defeat evil, because
she, too, is a human-animal hybrid and is, therefore, potentially a monstrosity. However, her
powers come from the Merciful Angel instead of "twisted magics" and her desire to combat
and destroy evil categorises her as good, despite her monstrosity.

Finally, when Adoulla and his team encounter the main antagonist Orshado in battle in the
novel, this purely evil being is described as:

tall but reed thin, and his flesh was jaundiced [..] his kaftan was the same cut and color as
Adoulla's, but soiled with waste and blood [..] Adoulla suddenly recalled his nightmare [...]
before all of this horror had happened. The rivers of blood. His own kaftan stained with
gore. It was said of the ghul of ghuls that his kaftan could never come clean. This, then, was
the man that God had whispered of in the strange language of dreams. The foul man
Adoulla was hunting [..] who had killed Miri's niece and slaughtered the Banu Laith Badawi.
Who had murdered Yehyeh and burned down Adoulla's house and all of the precious
mernories it held (Ahmed, 2012: 207).

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This description of Orshado depicts him as an abject monster, being "tall but reed thin" with

“jaundiced flesh" and “soiled with waste and blood”. Readers are clearly meant to view him as

an impure being, as the antithesis of all things holy. Kristeva's (1982) theory of the abject is,

again, applicable here. Orshado commands Mouw Awa to do his bidding and the former is

known as the "ghul of ghuls". Furthermore, he is the one about whom God warns Adoulla in

“whisper[s] in the strange language of dreams" through showing him images of “rivers of

blood" and "his kaftan stained with gore". Orshado is depicted as a "foul man" who has "killed"

and "slaughtered" and "murdered" and "burned down". This confirms his status as malevolent

and evil, and he is the one Adoulla, Raseed, and their friends are hunting. It is clear here that

Adoulla views the ghuls, Mouw Awa, Orshado, and the source of their evil, the Traitorous

Angel, in no uncertain terms: they are pure evil. This must be distinguished from the way in

which he views the Falcon Prince, which is with some negative judgement, but certainly not

as evil. The Prince breaks the law, but does not kill mercilessly. It is through these complex

distinguishing features that Adoulla is able to navigate the tension between good and evil.

On the other hand, Sunny Nwazue from What Sunny Saw in the Flames is an adolescent girl

who is still trying to find her place in the world. She describes herself as:

Nigerian by blood, American by birth, and Nigerian again because | live here [...] | have West
African features [...] but while the rest of my family is dark brown, I've got light yellow hair,
skin the colour of ‘sour milk’ (or so stupid people like to tell me), and hazel eyes that look
like God ran out of the right colour. I'm albino (Okarafor, 2011: 4).

Sunny is a hybrid in several respects: she is half-American and half-Nigerian, she appears

West African but has pale skin, and her albinism all but confirms her hybridity. Much like

Mouw Awa and Zamia, Sunny could be viewed as a monster and for the same reasons. She

also enjoys playing football and is good at it, even though she is "a girl" (Okarafor, 2011: 4). It is

clear that her society, the "stupid people", ensure that she is aware of her difference. Like

Adoulla, Sunny is judged by her society. In fact, one of her peers at school, Jibaku, calls her "a

pale-faced akata witch" (9). Akata means "bush animal" (14), and it is clear that people are

somewhat fearful of her while simultaneously fascinated by her difference (see Cohen, 1996).

Much like a monster, her otherness is pronounced and is based both on her background and,

more importantly, her physical appearance. Therefore, Sunny almost instinctively

understands that binaries and dichotomies are superfluous and that people are actually

made up of a number of different and sometimes seemingly opposing elements.

Sunny later discovers that she has magical powers and is introduced to the "Leopard People",

who also have such powers, through her friends Orlu and Chichi (Okorafor, 2011: 31). Again,

Sunny's hybridity (read monstrosity) is made evident. The magic or juju that Leopard People

can use and experience is invisible to non-magical people, known as "Lambs" (44). There is

thus the potential for Leopard People to be viewed as monstrous by the Lambs and, doubly

So, Sunny. This potential fear is even more pronounced when Sunny offers a glimpse of her

"spirit face", a magical masquerade-like countenance, to Jibaku, who had been bullying

Sunny (120). Jibaku is frightened senseless. Sunny thus begins to realise that, while she

possesses great power, she needs to control it, and there is an internal tension between good

and potential evil within her. While Sunny clearly is not evil, there is the possibility of her using

her power to exact revenge on her bully.

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It is also worth noting that Sunny has a vision of the destruction of the world and her
knowledge of the prophecy of "Raging fires, boiling oceans, toppled skyscrapers, ruptured
land, dead and dying people" makes the Leopard People who know about her powers feel
uneasy around her (5-4). Because Sunny is perceived as (possibly) monstrous by both the
Leopard and Lamb (ordinary) society, her choices and actions are important, and the reader
takes their cues from her as to whether to consider her good or evil.

In contrast to Sunny's sometimes ambiguous moral position, a serial killer, Black Hat Otokoto,
is on the loose in her home town and, like most people in her community, she perceives him
as purely evil. There is no grey area here because he hunts children. Much like Mouw Awa and
Orshado, Black Hat is purely evil. It becomes Sunny's (and her friends’) duty, along with other
members of the Leopard community, to find and destroy Black Hat because:

He wanted power. That remains his greatest hunger, and his hunger has opened him up to
terrible powers of the earth. There is a forbidden juju, a black juju. It is old and secret [..] The
juju is to bring the head of the centipede through - Ekwensu [..] The hunger for power will
lead a person to dark, dead places. [..] He's lost control of himself. He is lost. [...]. If he brings
Ekwensu through, Ekwensu will build an empire. She did it once before, thousands of years
ago (Okorafor, 2011: 191).

This excerpt speaks to morality and its impact on good and evil. Otokoto is portrayed as an
individual whose desire for power is described as a "hunger", which makes him vulnerable to
"terrible powers", and, again, the reader is encouraged to read these as evil. In this case, it is
not so much that Otokoto was always pure evil but that a crisis of morality leads him to
choose evil in order to satisfy his hunger for power. He is morally corrupt, and this leads him
towards evil. These powers, which are further described as "forbidden", "black", "old and
secret", and will lead a morally poor individual to "dark, dead places", connote occult, evil and
ancient magic that should have remained hidden, akin to the ancient Kem magics which are
used to conjure Mouw Awa and the ghuls in The Throne of the Crescent Moon.

Sigmund Freud's theory of the uncanny is relevant here. In his essay on this concept, Freud
(in Weinstock, 2020: 59) indicates that the uncanny is "undoubtedly related to what is
frightening - to what arouses dread and horror". He goes on to add that the uncanny reminds
us of something old and long familiar and discusses the German word "unheimlich" to
describe the idea of the uncanny (60). “Heimlich” means homely or familiar, and therefore it
can be said that "unheimlich" is that which is unhomely, unnatural, unfamiliar. Freud then
provides a number of interpretations of the word "unheimlich" as it relates to his idea of the
uncanny, some of which include that which is "concealed, kept from sight [...] withheld from
others", that which is "eerie, weird, arousing gruesome fear”, and what "ought to have
remained secret and hidden but has come to light" (60-64). Thus, a connection between the
fear of the unknown, which is simultaneously familiar, is established in relation to the juju
which Otokoto has discovered and plans to use to summon Ekwensu, an ancient malevolent
figure similar to Orshado in The Throne of the Crescent Moon. Here, Otokoto is shown to be
submitting to evil and will lose control of himself by doing so. The above description of
Ekwensu and the evil power she possesses elicits an intense fear in Sunny, her compatriots,
and, assumedly, in the reader. Nevertheless, Sunny uses her power to destroy Ekwensu in the
final battle of the novel. While Sunny has juju of her own, and could thus be considered
dangerous, she is still able to identify pure evil, distinguish it from good, and understand the
morality of using one's power for good instead of evil. And Sunny chooses to be good.

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Finally, it cannot go without mention here, albeit briefly, that Raseed the dervish conforms to

the idea of the individual who denies what Jung (1938: 131) describes as “the shadow" which

we all possess. Raseed is described as pious, a zealot even, and seems to have a rigid idea of

what is right and wrong. When speaking to Adoulla about Miri Almoussa, Raseed's "birdlike

mouth tightened in distaste”, and, quoting a holy text, he states, “О believer! If a man asks you

to choose between virtue and your brother, choose virtue!” (Ahmed, 2012: 4, 10). When

discussing the starving denizens of Dhamsawaat with Adoulla, Raseed comments, "For the

starving man, prayer is better than food” (11). During his initial interactions with Zamia, the

Badawi girl, Adoulla notes that "No doubt the dervish was twisting himself in knots trying to

square the circle of his pious oaths with a young man's natural reactions" (44).

Le Guin (1975: 141) eloquently describes Jung's concept of the shadow when she expounds

that:

Jung saw the ego, what we usually call the self, as only a part of the Self, the part of it
which we are consciously aware of. The ego "revolves around the Self as the earth around
the Sun."

She further explains that if the ego is weak and afraid of its shadow, it tends to identify with or

align, without much resistance, with cults, creeds, received beliefs, religions, and the

"collective consciousness" (Le Guin, 1975: 141). What Le Guin means is that if the ego is not fully

developed, it simply identifies with the collective consciousness of society, which refers to

ideas to which the majority of society subscribes. It could be argued that Raseed's ego is

weak, which is why he so easily follows the rules of the dervish order and, indeed, the rules of

his society, despite their potential for harm, and without ever questioning their validity

critically. He piously promotes virtue and prayer above all else. This is why he responds to Miri

Almoussa, a prostitute, with "distaste". Furthermore, Jung's theory suggests that the shadow

is the other side of our psyche, the dark part of the conscious mind. Le Guin adds that one

"who will not confront and accept [their] shadow is a lost soul" (141). Raseed refuses to accept

or acknowledge his 'shadow' - he denies having an attraction to Zamia, rather suffering the

internal conflict of a young man with physical desires because he views these feelings as

sinful. Le Guin further explains that the shadow is not simply evil and that:

The person who denies [their] own profound relationship with evil denies [their] own reality
[...]. For the shadow is the guide. The guide inward and out again [..] the guide of the
journey to self-knowledge, to adulthood, to the light" (143-144).

Raseed clearly denies his own reality by refusing to accept his feelings for Zamia, which are

perfectly normal. And, Le Guin suggests, in doing so, he denies himself the opportunity to

arrive at self-knowledge, adulthood, and, ironically, the light to which he has always seemed

to be striving.

Adoulla and Sunny, however, understand that no one is completely good or evil; they have

embraced their shadow selves and thus come to know their true selves. Finally, though, it

must be acknowledged that by the end of the novel, Raseed does recognise his need for self-

examination. He says to Zamia:

"L.] it has made me think about... about many things. Almighty God forgive me, but after
these past few days | no longer know just what my place in His plan is. [...] | think that I
must take some time to find out. Alone" (Ahmed, 2012: 225).

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It is left up to the reader to imagine whether Raseed will discover and acknowledge that life is
not black and white, a binary of good versus evil. His journey, however, seems just about to
begin.

In any discussion of how the main characters Adoulla and Raseed in The Throne of the
Crescent Moon and Sunny in What Sunny Saw in the Flames navigate the tension between
good and evil, it must be borne in mind that, by virtue of their profession (Adoulla and Raseed
as ghul hunters) or their appearance (Sunny's albinism), these characters are viewed as
different, as the ‘other’ by ‘normal’ society (Burney, 2012). The concept of the other is well
defined as:

a term used to capture the ways other people are different from us. It's also used to
describe the people who we keep distant from us because we decide they're not like us.
The process of Othering occurs when we turn fellow humans into abstract entities we can
distance ourselves from or treat as less-than-human (The Ethics Centre, 2020).

This other is often associated with what is different, and therefore bad, evil, wrong. Therefore,
all three characters are, by default, required to traverse the challenges that come with being
different. Furthermore, by virtue of his age, Adoulla has seen many things and has undergone
many rnore life experiences than Raseed and Sunny. Therefore, his worldview is informed by a
greater understanding and an acceptance of people's faults. While he is able to distinguish
clearly between good and evil, he understands that there are grey areas in life.

In direct contrast to Adoulla, Sunny is very young and inexperienced but, because she is
sometimes rejected due to what is viewed as hybridity, she is able to understand the fallacy of
a binary of good and evil as it pertains to morality. She, too, understands the difference
between good and evil, and recognises that her newfound power could tempt her into
choosing to do the wrong thing, if she is not vigilant. She discovers that power can corrupt.

Finally, Raseed's rigid worldview prevents him from navigating the tension between good
and evil effectively by the end of the narrative, as he is limited by his reluctance to accept and
acknowledge his shadow self. While he easily identifies pure evil, he is unable to acknowledge
the flaws that come with being human. Therefore, he leaves himself open to manipulation
and control, unlike Adoulla and Sunny, who recognise and accept themselves (their flaws and
their powers) fully, while keeping their potential for evil in check. As Le Guin (1975: 145) points
out: "The hero or heroine is the one who sees what is appropriate to be done". This is because
they have a clearer picture of the situation, one "which is greater than either evil or good"
(ibid). In Le Guin's view, heroism equates with certainty and a trustworthy inner moral guide.
This is, in effect, the heart of morality.

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References

Ahmed, S. 2012. The Throne of the Crescent Moon. New York: DAW Books.

Binary Cafe. 2016. Review of Throne of the Crescent Moon. Available at:
https://binarycafe.wordpress.com/2016/01/01/throne-of-the-crescent-moon (accessed 27 September
2021)

Burney, S. 2012. Orientalism: The making of the Other. Counterpoints, 417: 23-39.

Cohen, J.J. 1996. Monster Theory: Reading Culture. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.

Jung, C.G. 1938. Psychology and Religion: West and East. The Collected Works of С.С. Jung.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Kristeva, J. 1982. Approaching abjection. Oxford Literary Review, 5(1-2): 125-149.

Le Guin, U.K. 1975. The child and the shadow. The Quarterly Journal of the Library of Congress, 32(2):
139-148.

Okorafor, N. 201. What Sunny Saw in the Flames. New York: Penguin.

Takle, C. 2017. П honor codes in Fantasy Literature. Literature and Honour, 217-233. DOI:
10.18261/978-82-15-02955-9-2017-12.

The Ethics Centre. 2020. The Other. Ethics Explainer, 7 December. Available at:
https://ethics.org.au/ethics-explainer-the-other (accessed 25 November 2021)

Weinstock, J.A. (Ed.) 2020. The Monster Theory Reader. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota
Press.

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